What they don't teach you at Harvard
by cyanwolfstar
Summary: When unexpected circumstances lead to Harvey Specter taking guardianship of 13 year-old Mike Ross, he finds that his expansive knowledge of the law has some considerable gaps when it comes to parenting.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! The premise of this fic is fairly simple - it's not a de-aging story, but Mike's thirteen at the beginning (I've left Harvey alone, assume around season 1 age) and it's just going to follow them meeting and the events that succeed that in this AU. This chapter is mainly exposition and I get that the ideas are a little preposterous and unrealistic, but just roll with it, it'll get better (I hope). I'm not that pleased with it but it was incredibly fun to write.**

 **Also please don't think I'm claiming the idea of a Harvey/Mike paternal set up to be my own - I know it's been done many times before, but there's just something so enticing and exciting about writing a young Mike and Harvey fic. If you do feel that this is an uninteresting facsimile of the many stories of this nature that are dotted around the internet, please, do tell me and I'll take it down or edit it or something.**

 **All that aside, I really do hope you enjoy! This is my first crack at a Suits fic, and it hasn't been beta'd, so apologies for any errors and reviews are always hugely appreciated! Thanks!**

* * *

Mike Ross burst through the first door he saw at the base of the staircase, slamming it with a clatter behind him. Chest heaving, he leant heavily against the closed door, eyes screwed shut, desperately trying to get his breath back. It was only after a minute that he opened his eyes to take inventory of his surroundings and saw the sharply dressed business man with immaculately coiffed hair staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

Mike gave a start and looked around the room for an escape route. Noting a door a few metres to his left, he gave a quick 'Um, hi. I'll just be leaving now' and headed towards the exit.

'Not so fast, kid,' the older man said, lunging for Mike's arm and missing, grasping the strap of the rucksack slung loosely over his shoulder. It had the desired effect of slowing the boy's progress, but also the quite unexpected result of tearing open the zip of the bag, spilling small packets of weed over the floor of the office.

'What's this?' the businessman said, his composure faltering for the first time since his surprise guest had arrived. Mike could see the evident shock written across his face, and his heart sank at the idea that he was already disappointing a man he had known for less than four minutes.

'Um, herbs?' Mike tried, almost able to see the humour in how pathetic his lie was, 'for my home economics class?'

The man quirked his eyebrow once again.

'I may be a lot of things, kid, but I'm not clueless. Go on, sit. Explain.'

Mike was not stupid. He knew the man was giving him an order and saw no other way out of the situation than to follow it. Depositing himself in the ornate cushioned chair opposite the man's desk, he allowed himself a small frown at what seemed to be a recurring and annoying epithet, 'kid'.

'I'm not really sure where to start, sir,' Mike said in a small voice.

'How about you start with your name,' the man replied, 'and drop the 'sir', I don't need to feel any older than I already am. You can call me Harvey.'

'It's Mike… Michael Ross,' replied Mike, stopping there. It was beginning to dawn on him that being found in possession of a considerable amount of narcotics was perhaps not the easiest position to explain. It seemed, however, that Harvey was unsympathetic, and he pushed the boy further for an answer.

'So, Michael Ross… why the hell have you got $25,000 worth of pot stashed in your quaint little school bag here? Come on, kid, how did you get involved in this kind of thing? You can't be more than eleven,' the man said.

' _Thirteen,'_ Mike answered, glaring at Harvey, 'and you can quit calling me 'kid', I'm a _teenager_.'

The older man gave a laugh, 'Oh, so the 'teenager''s finally speaking up? Perhaps you could drop the goddamn attitude and use this newfound voice to give me a valid explanation for your situation, and,' he tapped the cell phone resting on his desk, 'if I don't hear one good reason in the next two minutes I'm calling the cops.'

The final threat left lingering in the air stirred Mike into action. Maybe there was something about the man was compelling him to tell the truth, or perhaps by that point he just didn't have the energy to fabricate a story, but Mike decided not to lie to Harvey.

'It's not really how it looks,' Mike started, shaking his head at Harvey's disbelieving snort, 'I mean, yeah, I do have a load of weed, and I am carrying it to someone, but I swear, I'm not a bad person, Harvey. I'm not like other kids that choose this, it just kinda happens that life woke up one morning and decided to dump a whole load of shit on me.'

'Watch your language, kid,' Harvey interjected.

'I'm not a _child_ ,' Mike said, frustrated.

Harvey frowned at the boy's tone, 'Carry on. Remember, you're on thin ice, Mike.'

Mike mumbled an apology and continued, 'it was my Grammy. She's been picking up odd jobs as a cleaner to support us for the last few years since my… since I lost my parents, but last week she fell of a ladder and broke her femur in two places and tore her anterior cruciate ligament and I just… the hospital asked for $30,000 and we just don't have that kind of money, Harvey, and I didn't know what to do and my friend Trevor hooked me up with some dealers he knew and it all sorta fell into place and I'm really sorry, Harvey, I really am, I didn't mean to come into your room, I just want my Grammy to get better and for everything to go back to normal and…'

'Mike.'

Harvey's voice made Mike suddenly aware of where he was and who he was talking to and embarrassment flushed red in his cheeks. He swiped furiously at the tears that were threatening to spill and mumbled an apology. It struck him how much he had unintentionally told the businessman in his rambling and he fixed his eyes on the floor in shame.

'Mike,' Harvey tried again, 'look at me.'

Harvey had thought himself immune to emotional spiel. Years as a commercial lawyer had exposed him to countless sobbing opposition members spewing sappy bullshit that he could easily see through, and yet something about the kid made him really want to believe his story. It wasn't him caring though. Harvey Specter did not do 'caring'.

He found it hard to maintain this internal bravado when the kid raised his large blue eyes to meet Harvey's own. The boy had the look of a lost puppy down to a T and it made Harvey want to do everything he could to make everything alright to him.

Shaking off the sickening paternal instincts that seemed to be overwhelming him, he assumed his cool lawyer head and said, 'Right, Mike, you and I are going to take a ride to your grandmother's and see what we can work out. First, though, we're gonna sort out a few things. Right now, you're going to hand over all of that weed to me. I'm going to find a way to dispose of it safely, okay?'

Apparently shocked that Harvey wasn't biting his head off, Mike grabbed the bags that had fallen to the floor and slid the rest out of his bag, handing them all over to Harvey who slipped them into the inner pocket of his briefcase.

'Okay, next step…'

Harvey was interrupted as two men clattered into the room, one waving a police badge and the other with his hand resting on what looked like a holster. Mike jumped, the colour draining from his face at the sight of the two plain-clothes officers, but Harvey remained still and stony-faced.

'Who the hell do you think you are?' he asked, not making any effort to disguise the animosity in his voice.

'The NYPD, that's who,' one of the men said, 'now hand over the bag, son.'

'I'm sorry?' Harvey questioned coolly, 'You want to see my son's school bag for what reason?'

The elder of the two cops, sporting an impressive beer gut and a receding hairline, gave a guttural laugh, saying 'You see this, George? The suit's trying to pass of the kid as his own to make it look like this ain't a drug deal.'

'You're right, Arch,' The blond younger cop, George, said, turning to Harvey, 'come on, man, the boy's nothing more than your supplier. Quite frankly I doubt you even know his name. Now hand over the bag.'

Harvey moved around to the front of his desk, placing a firm hand on Mike's shoulder and drawing the boy closer in to his body. 'Michael here is handing over nothing. Listen here, gentlemen, Archie, is it? And George? I'm a fair man, so I'm going to give you two options. Number one: leave this room now and don't look back. Number two: carry on harassing my son. I swear I will dig up every dirty deal and clandestine trade you've ever done and drag you through the mud in front of a judge until you're wishing that you never met me… I guess at least you'd have the chance to sit opposite New York's finest lawyer in court. Now step away from my son.'

Mike couldn't help but be pretty impressed. Both of the cops were looking considerably cowed and the younger seemed to be directing a pleading look at the elder.

'The man's not kidding, Arch' George said, gesturing at Harvey's desk, 'you see that nameplate? He's Harvey Specter.'

'So?' Archie threw back.

'Don't you remember the Rustenforth case? Mr Specter's the reason that ex-DCI Diggins is sitting at home crying into some chicken wings about his divorce instead of working on this case. We better leave, bro,' the younger officer warned.

'Can it, George,' the elder shot back, despite the hint of fear that ghosted across his face at the news, 'we're on the brink of uncovering a major drug operation and you want to leave it 'cause you're scared of some sleazy suit.'

Harvey was disliking the two men more with every word, and, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, he said to Mike, 'Prove it, son, show them your bag, please.'

Mike handed over his backpack to the blond man, who opened it and had a thorough search, eventually raising his head and saying, 'they're telling the truth, Arch. It's clean.'

The older cop frowned and snatched the bag from George. He rooted around for a moment, his frown only deepening, until his expression suddenly twisted into a gleeful grin.

'What's this, eh?' He said, drawing out a battered schoolbook, 'the name here says 'Mike Ross'. Thought you were Harvey _Specter._ Come to think of it, your 'son' here doesn't look an awful lot like you.'

Harvey released Mike's shoulder, squaring up to the cop with a dangerous look on his face.

' _Foster_ son, gentleman,' Harvey ground out, 'it's 2017, goddammit, you don't have to share blood to call someone family. Mike's mine.' He leant over to Mike, giving him a smile and ruffling his hair, 'now get the hell out.'

'We've got nothing on the kid, Arch, let's go,' the younger cop almost whispered, his fear palpable.

Archie squinted, his face only a few inches from Harvey's own. A tense silence filled the room, each man anticipating the next move of the others.

'Right you are, George,' he said, finally, 'see you around Mr Specter, Mr Ross.'

Harvey didn't give the cops the courtesy of an acknowledging nod as they withdrew from the office.

'Donna,' he shouted after them, 'I'm going to have to rearrange the rest of these interviews.'

'Already done, Harvey,' a light female voice called back, 'Ray's waiting outside. I know, I'm an angel.'

Mike watched in astonishment as the lawyer shook his head fondly. He was still digesting the events of the last few minutes, and barely registered Harvey calling his name until he received a gentle cuff over the back of his head.

'Pull it together, Mike, we need to get going,' the older man said.

'Okay, I mean, I just… Harvey, thank you so much for…'

'Save it, kid,' Harvey cut in, 'don't doubt for one second that those wretches won't be on your case again within the week. They can smell victory on whatever case they're working and once a dog catches a scent, it doesn't give up chase. Let's head to your grandmother's.'

Silenced yet left with much to think about, Mike grabbed the bag that had been the source of so many of his troubles and followed Harvey out of the hotel and down to a very swanky car.

* * *

The car ride to his grandmother's was strange and silent. Mike had so many questions that he wanted to ask Harvey, and yet the events of the evening had left him exhausted, so he simply rested his forehead against the cold glass of the car window and watched the flickering lights of New York City pass by.

As they drove on into shabbier and more dilapidated neighbourhoods, Mike got more and more self-conscious. He glanced at Harvey, who was gazing curiously out of his own window, and noted how incongruous the Tom Ford suit appeared in the neighbourhood that Mike had grown up in. He was suddenly very aware of the shortcomings of his upbringing, and realised he really didn't want to expose them to someone as complete and flawless as Harvey Specter. Just thinking of it made him feel vulnerable and inadequate.

A quiet 'We're here, sir,' from the front brought him out of his reverie.

'Thank you, Ray,' Harvey answered, climbing out of the car, 'with me, Mike.'

They walked in an almost companionable silence up the worn staircase of Mike's block of flats. When they reached Mike and his Grammy's, he gave a soft knock before pushing open the front door and entering the warmly lit apartment.

'Hiya Grammy,' he said in a hushed voice

'Michael James Ross,' came the warm yet disapproving response from the armchair in the centre of the cosily furnished living room, 'where in God's name have you bee… oh, Michael,' she said, spotting Harvey, 'you should have warned me that you were going to bring a charming young man home, I would have made an effort,'

'You look just fine, Grammy,' Mike smiled, welcoming the proffered embrace. Harvey didn't fail to note the care taken by the boy to avoid jogging the woman's injured leg, nor the easy happiness he seemed to fall into in the presence of his grandmother. 'This is Harvey Specter.'

Harvey reached out a hand to shake, and was surprised at the firmness of the grip that he received.

'Pleased to meet you, Mrs Ross,' he said, giving a well-practised charming smile.

'Oh please, it's Edith,' Edith replied, 'would you care to explain what you were doing with Michael?'

'Ah yes, well, your grandson, he…' Harvey paused at the extreme puppy dog eyes Mike was shooting him. It suddenly occurred to him what should have been blatantly obvious; Mike's Grammy had no idea what he had been up to. 'He got himself in a little trouble with the police and ended up in my office. It's nothing I can't rectify, but there are still some issues.'

' _Michael_ ,' Edith said, fixing the aforementioned boy with a piercing glare, 'what did you _do_?'

Mike, blatantly squirming under the penetrating gaze, searched fruitlessly for an explanation that wouldn't result in imminent death-by-grandmother. Harvey saw his struggle and felt a pang of sympathy for the boy; it was becoming clearer and clearer that he was really just a good kid in a bad situation.

'I assure you, Edith, I will be able to sort this,' Harvey said, 'but there're still a few issues.'

Edith raised an eyebrow. 'Go on.'

'To get the cops off his tail, I had to imply he was my son. It was pretty clear that they doubted it, but it put them off for the mean time. I've had experience with their type before, though, and they don't give up. They're going to dig around as soon as they get back to the station and it won't take them a second to realise Mike's not my boy.'

Edith frowned, processing the information. 'When you say that you 'implied', Mr Specter…'

'I mean _heavily_ implied, Edith, and please, it's Harvey,' Harvey replied, 'I know what you're asking, but there's no way I can twist it to make it seem like it's all a misinterpretation. And Mike's looking at seeing nothing but the walls of a cell until he's well into adulthood unless we do something about this. I can't say how sorry I am for putting him in this position Edith, if-'

The elderly woman looked horrified, and cut in with a tone that made Harvey feel very much like a chastised child. 'Don't you apologise, young man, you've done nothing of the sort. Michael is a big boy and is perfectly capable of making his own decisions,' she said, ignoring Mike's growing blush, 'this is his fault.'

'Grammy, I…' Mike tried.

Edith pinned him with a glare that halted his words. The boy flushed and directed his gaze at the floor.

'This is on you, Michael,' she continued, 'I'm not going to ask what you did, because, quite frankly, I don't want to know. You better do whatever this gentleman tells you to do, do you hear me?'

'Yes, Grammy,' Mike mumbled.

'Good,' she said, turning to Harvey again, 'now, Harvey, please do put us out of our misery. What can we do to make this go away?'

'Well, a difficult situation warrants a difficult solution,' Harvey said, 'and I'm sorry about that. The only way I can see out of this is if…'

He couldn't quite bring himself to finish the sentence. At the start of the day, he would never have imagined that what should have been simple interviews for the associate position would end in the proposition he was about to put forward to a boy he had known for all of two hours and his ailing grandmother, and yet here he was. He glanced at Mike. The boy was looking at him in nervous expectation, his pallor drained of colour and a confused frown creasing his forehead. Poor kid's terrified, Harvey thought. Goddammit, Specter, spit it out, don't be a wuss.

'I think Mike should come and stay with me for a while, until all this settles down,' he said finally, 'it's not going to take awful long for the cops to come knocking, and if my 'son' lives on the other side of town it'd look a little suspicious. It'd be best to construct an image that mirrors as closely as possibly the spiel I fed them today.'

Having said all he had to say, Harvey looked at the two Rosses, trying to gauge their reactions. Mike was wearing an unreadable expression that worried Harvey, but to his surprise, a small smile broke out on Edith Ross' face.

'Thank you, Mr Specter,' she said warmly, 'I know this won't be easy for any of us, but perhaps it has come as a blessing in disguise. My leg is healing poorly and I'm not going to pretend I have the financial capability to properly look after both Mike and myself.'

'But Grammy,' Mike interjected, his voice bordering on a shout, 'this isn't _fair_.'

'You know what isn't fair, Michael?' his grandmother replied, her voice carrying a sharp edge, 'putting us in the position in the first place. You've lost your right to have a say in what happens. Now go and get your stuff together, please.'

Mike gave a frustrated huff but made no further objection. Instead, he stormed out of the room, making sure every step was heard and slamming the door a little too hard to show Harvey and his Grammy just how angry he was.

Edith gave a small tut and said, 'he'll come round eventually. I really can't impress upon you the size of my gratitude. I can't imagine taking in a teenage boy is an exciting prospect for you, and yet you offered to do it. Please, though, do good by him. He needs guidance – I'm a 78 year-old woman, I can't give him that, Mr Specter, but you can. He hasn't had a male figure in his life since his parents died nearly three years ago.'

Harvey, unusually, was at loss for words. He decided to swerve the emotional, and said, 'There's no need for formality, really, it's Harvey.'

Edith gave a small smile, recognising the man's skilled avoidance of softer matters. She watched as he pulled a small notebook from an inner jacket pocket. He scribbled something down and tore out the page, which he handed over to her. It was an email address.

'That's mine,' Harvey said, 'you're going to forward me any bills you get, for rent or medical care or whatever. I'm also going to organise regular visits from a professional carer for the indefinite future.'

'Goodness, Harvey, I couldn't possibly take a gift such as this,' Edith said, 'I can say that I'll rest easier, though, knowing that Michael is being taken in by a caring man like you.'

Harvey balked at the word 'caring'. 'It's not a gift, it's a condition of me having Mike. He needs you to be healthy and safe for him to be happy, and I'm not looking after a stroppy teenager,' he said, 'it's not caring, it's protecting my needs.'

'Of course, Harvey,' Edith said, an amused glint in her eye. There was a small creak from the doorway, and both of them looked up to see Mike standing there with the infamous school bag slung over his shoulder and a worn duffel bag in his hand. It seemed that packing had given him time to calm down, and he appeared much more contrite as he leant against the door jamb.

'I'm ready,' he said. Harvey could have laughed, were the situation any different; the boy was emanating more misery at the idea of living with him than what would've been appropriate at a funeral.

'Michael,' Edith said, her voice much softer than when addressing him before, 'you're a bright boy, you know I'm only doing what I think is best for you.'

Mike gave a glum nod, eyes remaining downcast.

'I'm am sorry,' she said, a small frown appearing, 'it's awful selfish, I know, but I just don't want to see you in prison. Stay out of trouble and keep in mind that Harvey's in charge. Don't forget about me, though, I need all the company I can get at my age. Come and visit every day, if you want to!'

Between Edith's forced positivity and the fact that Mike's set jaw was failing to disguise his trembling lower lip and the tears beginning to well, Harvey could see both Rosses were on the verge of an emotional breakdown and he was by no means equipped to deal with that.

'I'll be just outside, Mike,' he said, stepping past the boy, 'say goodbye to your Grammy. Ray's waiting downstairs, so be quick.'

Mike followed him out a minute later, bags in hand and swiping at a few stray tears. The car ride was just as strange and silent as the previous one, yet the Mike's thoughts were anything but quiet. He didn't dislike Harvey, and he realised he had perhaps misjudged him after he walked in on him offering to pay his Grammy's bills, but his heart still sank when he remembered he was going to be living away from her with a man who was essentially a stranger.

Harvey's mind was far from calm, either. The tumult of emotion he was feeling was far from his standard equanimity, and he wasn't quite sure how to behave. He knew that the kid must be feeling ten times what he was, and he knew that he should offer some words of comfort, but he wasn't sure if he would be able to speak without betraying how unsure he was. Mike needed certainty and confidence, and Harvey could provide neither of those right now. He elected instead to rest his head against the seat's headrest and close his eyes in the hope that sleep would clear his mind and by the time that they arrived at his apartment, his composure would have returned to him.


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter is quite a bit shorter, and again is a little more exposition mixed in with a simple transition chapter, but it was fun to write so here you go! This is a pretty speedy update, and I'm not going to pretend that they'll all be as fast as this - I'm away for the next week or two, so nothing will be uploaded for a good few weeks. This fic is too fun to leave, though, and I've got a lot planned, so I'll definitely be back! Yes, it will be a multi-chapter fic.**

 **Apologies for any errors. I really do hope you enjoy, and again, reviews are genuinely appreciated.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Mike woke tangled in cool bedsheets. His heart jumped a little at the unfamiliar surroundings, but the details of the previous day came flooding back to him at the sight of his belongings lying in an ungainly pile where they had been deposited the night before.

A skylight above him cast warm rays over the minimalistic yet stylish room. When Harvey had warned him in the car that he'd be staying in the rarely-used spare room and had apologised for it being the smallest room in the condo, Mike hadn't been sure what to expect. He certainly didn't have the roomy modern bedroom that he was lying in now in mind, and couldn't disguise his snort of disbelief when Harvey showed him in.

Yawning, he pushed himself up to lean on the headboard. A compact digital clock on the bedside table read 09:56 and the apartment seemed pretty quiet, so Mike assumed Harvey had gone to work. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he pulled on a tee and some jeans and pushed open the door, entering the living room.

It was a large open plan condo, with polished wooden floors and shining marble surfaces, but also with a slightly homey feel; a smart family photo of Harvey himself seated with his parents and what Mike assumed was a younger brother rested on the mantelpiece next to another picture of a young Harvey with flowing blond hair grinning with his arm slung loosely around the brother, and an old Harvard sweater with 'SPECTER' imprinted over the shoulders hung on the back of an armchair. These personal touches made Mike feel a little like he was intruding in someone else's life, but then again, how else could he describe his situation, and they did also let him relax a little at the idea that there was more to the suave businessman than the detached logic and slightly chilly disposition he had displayed the previous day.

Mike noticed a small folded piece of paper with his name written on it on the coffee table and picked it up, flipping it open to read it.

 _Mike,_

 _Got called into the firm. I've had Donna rearrange my schedule so I can be home by 3, but you'll have to entertain yourself this morning. We'll lay out some ground rules when I get back, but for now don't touch the stove, don't leave the condo, try not to set anything on fire and don't you dare touch my records. Here's my number – only call in an emergency. There's food in the fridge, DVDs in the cabinet under the TV and the WiFi password is on the bottom of the router._

 _Enjoy,_

 _Harvey_

Mike sighed. It seemed that no matter how many times he asserted how mature he was, Harvey was determined to treat him like a toddler. He walked over to the fridge and perused the contents, pulling out two eggs and a carton of milk. Flicking on the stove with practised ease, he fished a pan out of a draw and set about making a plate of scrambled eggs.

* * *

It was past four by the time that the lock rattled and Harvey entered the condo. Mike had rifled through the entirety of the man's film collection and was considerably impressed by his taste, but there were definitely a few classics that were missing. He had perhaps had a small look at the forbidden record collection as well, and couldn't help but be slightly awed by the breadth of the vinyl owned by the man. At the time that the lawyer entered the apartment, however, Mike was curled up on the surprisingly comfy couch, reading through some files on a Pearson Hardman case that he had found on the kitchen counter.

Harvey pulled the door closed behind him with a click and deposited his briefcase by the entrance. Frowning at the pan that Mike had discarded in the sink, he walked into the living room.

'My fault, I guess. I should've checked you could read before leaving you alone with _simple written instructions_ that- Hey, are those my files? They're confidential, Mike, here, give them to me,' Harvey said, reaching over for the papers.

'Sorry, Harvey,' Mike said, 'I didn't know. It didn't say on your note not to read them, so I just-'

'So you _did_ read the note.' Harvey cut in, 'and you decided to use the oven, what, to spite me? Kid, it was just to stop you hurting yourself.'

'That's exactly it! I don't need protecting like that 'cause I'm not a kid. I made some damn good scrambled eggs, as well,' Mike sighed. He was fighting a losing battle, and realised he really didn't want to focus on the fact that, despite the deep injustice of the instructions in Harvey's note, he had completely disobeyed him and wasn't sure how annoyed the man really was, so opted for a drastic change of subject and gestured to the files Harvey had taken from him. 'Is that the case you're working on right now? Is that what you were doing today? How are you going to cut the client without making Pearson Hardman look weak?'

'Yes, that is the case I'm working on right now,' Harvey replied, unshaken by the barrage of questions, 'no, attacking me with a CIA-style interrogation will not distract me from the fact that you… hang on, Mike,' he paused, 'What did you just say to me? Why would I want to cut the Freston Motors? They've been with the firm for years.'

'Oh, I mean, I just kinda assumed you knew,' Mike said, 'the files said that the company came under new management a month ago, bought by Ms. M Carrick. I read an article in my dad's copy of the Times four years ago about a businesswoman with the same name who was dominating the market and had bought shares in some of the biggest companies in the city, including Bratton Gould, and they're the firm representing the opposition, yeah? So I thought it was a bit fishy that the owner of your client would be so involved with the rival firm, and I checked the income figures for Freston Motors and there's a small rise in the monthly income figures on page 23 that's not accounted for in the income sources on page 44, so I thought that perhaps that's a payment from Bratton Gould to keep them involved in the case which has no real substance, I mean, have you looked at it? They're just trying to draw it out to use your time and resources and bring you to your knees just in time for a takeover! But, I reckon, if you dissolve the contract between… am I wrong?' Mike halted his passionate speech at the sight of Harvey's slightly dropped jaw. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ramble for so long.'

'No, no, Mike. It's fine.' More than that, Harvey thought, it's incredible. He had to shake himself. Mike's ideas had left him speechless, not only because of the expansive knowledge they seemed to exhibit, but also because, when he thought about it, all of his observations were completely viable and yet had been picked up not by the team of Harvard-graduate Pearson Hardman lawyers that had been working hopelessly on the case for days, but instead by a teenage boy from a disadvantaged background.

'Have you been looking at these files all day?' Harvey asked.

'No, Harvey, I swear, I only picked them up like an hour before you came,' Mike replied, 'if I'd known they were properly confidential, I wouldn't have touched them. Sorry.'

'Calm down, Mike, I'm not mad,' Harvey halted the evidently stressed boy, 'I'm… impressed.'

The boy raised his eyes at the praise from the older man.

'Really, kid. Yeah, you looked at something you shouldn't have, but I didn't expressly tell you not to and I'm sorry that I seemed angry about it when I came in. I was just a little stressed, is all, and I think the fact that you just saved Pearson Hardman a whole lot of trouble and money just about makes up for scaring me a little,' Harvey cracked a genuine smile and was relieved when Mike allowed a small one in response. 'Answer one thing for me though; how the hell did you remember a detail as small as that from an article you read four years ago when you were, what, nine years old?'

'It's just how my mind works,' Mike said, tapping the side of his head, 'it's called an eidetic memory. Once I read or hear something, it's stuck in here forever.'

'That's pretty neat.'

'Yeah, I guess. Not always though. There're some things you don't want to remember forever.' Like the knock on the door after so many hours of silence, the squeak of worn out shoes on linoleum flooring as a lawyer made his way into the Ross living room, the detached, almost bored tone Rinaldi's voice held as he delivered the crippling words and the cool pressure of the wooden railings as Mike pressed his forehead against the banister and tried not to cry too loud.

Harvey watched as the boy's eyes glazed over and read the discomfort in his features. For the second time in as many days, he felt a deeply protective urge towards the kid he barely knew, yet again he fervently side-stepped it, opting to move on and try to distract Mike with a different topic.

'Right. I suppose if you're staying here for a while, we better lay out some ground rules,' Harvey said, pulling round a stool so he could sit opposite Mike, 'I suppose I can safely assume that you completely disregarded the rest of the instructions on the sheet and had a good look through my record collection, yes?'

At Mike's nod of assertion, he continued, 'I thought so. That's fine, as long as you make sure your hands are clean before you touch any of them. I don't want sticky fingerprints all over my vinyl.'

Mike frowned. 'I'm not a-'

'Child. I know. Sorry, Mike, I'm just not used to having another person around the house, let alone a ki- young adult like you,' Harvey apologised, 'but despite your apparently complete and unquestionable maturity, we do need some proper rules. First one, you don't go anywhere without telling me. Drop me a text, tell me in person, I don't mind, but I want to know where you are at all times, okay?'

'Kay,' Mike agreed.

'Number two, you don't do anything that could get you hurt. I feel like you wouldn't be the only one in pain if I deliver you back to your Grammy's with an injury.'

'Yeah, I wouldn't envy you,' Mike said.

'No, which is why that's not gonna happen,' Harvey continued, 'three, you don't disobey me. When I tell you to do something, you do it without question. I know I sound like a hardass, but you've got to remember that the reason you're here is so you don't end up doing time in jail and if that means I have to be a hardass to ensure that doesn't happen, I really don't care. Do you understand?'

'Yeah, Harvey, I get it,' Mike replied.

'Good,' Harvey said. 'Last one, you do not lie to me. I don't tolerate lying, simple as. Got it?'

'Got it.'

'Right.' Harvey stood, pushing his stool to the side and striding into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator, only to see that the statement that there was 'food in the fridge' on his note to Mike might perhaps have been a bit generous. 'We're ordering in. What do you want?'

Mike seemed to perk up at the suggestion of food.

'Can we get pizza? With stuffed crusts and garlic bread?' He pleaded.

Harvey glanced at the kid, who was reaching maximum excitable puppy levels, and gave in.

'Sure, Mike, why don't you order,' he said, handing over his phone, finding it hard to suppress a grin at how thrilled the boy looked at the gesture. Despite Mike almost constantly professing that Harvey treated him like a child, during their discussion and the exhibition of Mike's brilliant mind he had found it easy to forget just how young the boy was, something that this childlike glee brought to the forefront of his mind. He was beginning to realise just how much weight this kid carried on his shoulders; between the fact that he was an orphan and that he had had to support his grandmother and himself, Mike had a lot to deal with. Harvey thought that, perhaps for one night at least, the boy deserved a break.

When Mike had finished ordering the pizza and Harvey had finished pretending not to hear the extra toppings the he was adding in, Harvey tentatively asked, 'You want to watch a film?'

He was surprised at the odd fear he felt in the space between the question and Mike's reply – it was almost as if he was scared the kid was going to reject his idea, but Mike simply gave a cheerful 'sure' and launched into a multilateral criticism of Harvey's film collection, grounded in the fact that it was lacking all the Star Wars films and that it was 'positively medieval' that he didn't have Netflix.

Soon, the pizza had arrived, and Harvey and Mike were deeply involved in 'Back to the Future', despite the fact that the TV was largely drowned out by their debate over the logistics of the time travel in the film. Harvey was pleased to see that it seemed to have taken the boy's mind away from the darker subjects he had been dwelling on earlier, and he was surprised to find that spending time with the teenager had left him much more relaxed too. They had slipped into a comfortable companionship, exchanging witty comments on the film and friendly banter.

Harvey couldn't help but think that perhaps this unexpected arrangement with Mike might not be as bad as he first thought it would be.


	3. Chapter 3

**Wahey! We've finally reached the end of the poorly disguised exposition! After this chapter we can move on to more domestic Mike and Harvey, and of course I've got some sick Mike and hurt Mike on the horizon (would it be a Suits fanfic if I didn't?). I'm awfully sorry that I took so long to update, and apologies for any grammatical errors - I gave this a _very_ sleepy proof read because I wanted to get it published for you as soon as possible. Anyway, thank you for dropping by and I'd be eternally grateful if you could hit me with a review, if you feel like it.**

 **Sorry in advance for the ridiculous amount of line breaks, and I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

The next day passed without incident. It was a Friday, so Harvey went to the firm again, but this time Mike woke before he left, and they sat eating breakfast together as Harvey read through the newspaper and Mike filled in the torn out cryptic crossword.

The kid was a fidgeter. Five minutes of sitting together and Harvey could feel himself being driven to the edge of insanity by the boy's restless hands, one minute drumming out a rhythm with his knife and fork and the next spinning the salt and pepper towards each other across the table in some sort of pseudo-battle to see which one was knocked over first. Harvey had finally lost his patience when the salt had skittered across the table into his lap, and, shooting an angry look at the sheepish boy, had flicked to the back page of the newspaper and ripped out the crossword. Mike had looked slightly surprised when Harvey had placed it in front of him, but had accepted the pen he was offered and made a start on it, glad for something to do.

Harvey soon found himself captivated by the speed and skill with which Mike attacked the mental puzzle. It was the advanced crossword from the end of the 'brain-teasers' section and had a 45 minute time suggestion, yet the thirteen year-old was making quick work of it. His eyes flitted across the clues, and every few seconds his hand would dart over the paper and fill out a series of boxes with neat printed capitals. God, the kid must be such an overachiever at school. Shit, Harvey thought, _school_.

'Mike,' he said, suddenly slightly terrified that he was unknowingly promoting truancy, 'aren't you meant to be at school?'

Mike looked up at Harvey and gave a small grin.

'Relax, Harvey,' he said, 'I don't go back 'til August 28th. That's another week. Don't worry, though, I'm sure you'll manage to completely fail as a responsible guardian in some other way.'

'Funny, kid.' Harvey replied, honestly relieved. He didn't want to find out what Edith Ross would have to say if he had actually allowed her grandson to skip school.

Putting down his empty mug of coffee, he stood up and said, 'I'm off. If you need a lift anywhere, Ray's number is on the fridge. Be good.'

With that, he pulled on his jacket and left the condo, grabbing his briefcase on the way out, leaving Mike to his crossword and cereal.

* * *

Harvey got home just in time to catch the Mets game on TV. Mike wasn't really a baseball guy himself, but he had to say there was something entertaining about the usually composed businessmen sitting on the edge of his seat, shouting passionately at the screen as if it was a matter of life and death.

They ordered food in again, Chinese this time at Harvey's insistence that he was a growing boy and had to have a somewhat balanced diet that didn't consist solely of pizza. As they sat on Harvey's couches, picking over the remains of the takeaway, Harvey answered all of Mike's questions about how the Freston Motors case went down. It had turned out that the boy had been completely right, which had been verified when they'd subpoenaed Bratton Gould's payment records. Jessica had been pleased with Harvey's work, and more than impressed when she found out it was the product of a young teenager's mind.

'She wants to meet you,' Harvey said, 'honestly, I think she likes you more than me and she doesn't even know you.'

Mike grinned, leaning back on the chair. 'That's not hard. I can't help being lovable and precocious.'

Harvey gave a chuckle before noticing the time.

'Right,' he said, 'shower and bed, Mike.'

'What? It's only half ten!'

'Exactly,' Harvey replied, 'you're not getting a lie in tomorrow. I've got to go into the firm at lunch and we need to go shopping before that, but I don't want to take away from your beauty sleep. That means bed, now.'

'Fine,' Mike said, pushing himself up off the sofa, 'but I'm not the one that needs beauty sleep, old man.'

'Watch it, kid,' Harvey laughed, clearing away the takeaway boxes. He wasn't sure whether it was because he pitied Mike, or because he simply enjoyed the boy's company and wit, but he tolerated their banter to an uncharacteristic extent; he would have crucified anyone else had they spoken to him in the same way.

* * *

An incessant banging drilled its way into Mike's head, pulling him from sleep with a jolt. Bleary eyed, he rolled out of bed and listened. The noise ceased, and at the sound of muffled voices carrying a distinctly argumentative tone, he realised that it must have been someone knocking on the front door. Pressing his ear to the wood of his bedroom door, he could just about discern what was being said.

'…doesn't look like a kid lives here.'

'What do you want to see? Toys everywhere? A diaper changing station? He's thirteen, not three.'

'Look, unless the boy's actually here, there's fair grounds to bring you in for questioning.'

'You really want me to go in there and wake Mike up just so you can get a good look at him?'

Mike sighed and rubbed his eyes, trying to look as sleepy and confused as possible as he pushed open the bedroom door.

'What's going on?' he asked.

'Nothing, son,' Harvey answered, 'these gentlemen were just about to leave.'

Both officers were staring gormlessly at the pair, looking suitably stunned. It was evident that they'd expected there to be no substance to Harvey's claim about his relationship to Mike, and they were clearly shocked to see him in Harvey's apartment in the middle of the night.

Mike padded over to Harvey, who placed a firm hand on the back of the boy's neck and drew him in to stand against his side, naturally assuming the same protective position that he had days before during their first confrontation with the policemen. They remained like that, waiting for the cops to respond, the lawyer directing an unrelenting frosty glare at the two men.

The older cop, Archie, finally broke the silence.

'Mr Specter, I'm impressed,' he said, showing his teeth in a leery grin that didn't quite reach his eyes, 'your foresight is admirable in arranging for the boy to stay with you. It still doesn't quite add up, though, I'm afraid. Our investigative branch found records showing that Mr Ross lives with his grandmother, not you. In fact, there's no mention of you on any documents pertaining to Mike Ross. Anywhere. How do you explain that, Mr Specter?'

Mike was starting to feel a little sick. Up until now, he had had every faith that Harvey 'talented' 'untouchable' 'high-flying corporate lawyer' Specter would be able to make everything okay again, and that life would be back to normal in no time, yet he was beginning to realise that even Harvey could hardly protect him from an organisation as vast as the police force. The thought that he would likely be in juvie before the end of the month made him feel queasy, and he swayed a little on his feet, trying desperately to hide his nerves from their guests.

Harvey picking up on Mike's paling complexion and gave the back of the boy's neck a steadying squeeze. He felt bad for the kid, but he couldn't have him fainting at the slightest hint of an interrogative tone. There was no need for him to panic, anyway; if Harvey had learnt one thing in his career as a lawyer, it was how to lie well.

'You're right. Mike _was_ living with his Grammy, until about three weeks ago,' he said, 'Edith Ross is a friend of a friend, so I'd met Mike a few times during his childhood. A few weeks back, I bumped into mine and Edith's mutual friend and found out that she'd broken her leg and was struggling to look after Mike, so I offered to take him in.'

'Quite the Good Samaritan, are you, Mr Specter?' the older policeman, Archie, drawled.

'Not at all,' Harvey replied, forcing a smile, 'just helping out a friend. I'm under no illusions about my happy financial situation – why would I not extend a hand to someone not quite as fortunate? I'm sure you would do the same.'

'And so, after a few weeks of living together, it's all happy families?' the cop said, frowning, 'you've twice addressed him as your son and yet from what you've said, you've properly known him for less than a month.'

'That's the basis of your argument? I can't explain why the kid and I clicked,' Harvey said, his tone growing more aggressive, 'maybe dormant paternal instincts? I don't know, but we did, and I see him as a son. Now, he's tired and so am I, so I'd really appreciate it if you'd kindly get the hell out of my home.'

The younger cop backed off a step at the hostile growl that Harvey's last few words had taken on. He was clearly Archie's subordinate and from his complete silence throughout the interrogation, Harvey could tell he was pretty terrified. However, despite the pleading looks he was giving his superior, the older man did not back down.

'Look, Mr Specter, cut the crap. Our background checks on the kid may have come up squeaky clean, but our informant gave a description of the runner on the drug op that matches pretty flawlessly up with your boy here,' he said. The unsettling smile was long forgotten, and open enmity was written across his face.

Harvey forced a laugh.

'Ah, of course, officer,' he said, 'because there is a shortage of yea-high teenage boys with light brown hair in New York City.'

'This is no joke, Mr Specter,' Archie said. Sighing, he rubbed the bridge of his nose and continued, 'look, this case is being shelved, but it'll be reviewed in 90 days and I'll be back. If the kid isn't calling you Pops and playing baseball with you, it's not only him that'll be facing jail time. Perverting the course of justice is no petty crime, sir.'

Harvey didn't miss Mike blanching at '90 days'. The poor kid must've felt like a prison sentence would've been more enjoyable than spending almost three months with him.

'90 days. Fine,' he ground out, 'now get out of my apartment or you'll be the ones facing goddamn charges – harassment. _Leave_.'

Archie flashed his sickly grin and turned, walking out the open front door with George following at his heels. Harvey watched them leave, before giving Mike's shoulder a small squeeze and releasing him from his grip.

'Get some sleep, Mike,' he said, 'we'll talk in the morning.'

* * *

Harvey was pulled from a restless sleep by faint footsteps on his bedroom floor. Groggily propping himself up on his elbows, he recognised the silhouette of the thirteen-year old framed in the doorway and sighed. He was too tired for this.

'Harvey,' Mike said in a small voice, 'Harvey, I can't sleep.'

'What do you expect me to do about it?' he snapped, 'Do I look like the damn sandman?'

Mike's eyes widened and he stepped back.

'I don't know, I just… I'm sorry,' the boy said, his gaze directed at the floor.

Harvey sighed again. He had regretted the harsh words as soon as they left his mouth – he was undeniably a prick when his sleep was interrupted, but there was usually no one else around to be on the receiving end of his aggravation.

Running a hand through his hair, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and said, 'No, Mike, I'm sorry. Let's go back to your room and we'll figure out some way to help you get to sleep.'

'Don't make a habit of this, though,' he continued, adopting a sterner tone, 'I'm making a concession today because you've had an eventful night. It won't happen again. You're thirteen; that's too old to come into my room at two in the morning because you can't sleep.'

'I'm not,' Mike said under his breath.

'What did you just say to me?'

'I'm not. Thirteen,' Mike repeated, a little louder, 'it's my birthday.'

'Jesus, kid,' Harvey said, flipping on the lights, 'why didn't you say?'

Mike gave a small shrug and fixed his eyes on the floor. Once again, Harvey sighed. This was going to be a long night.

He gently took the boy by the shoulders and spun him round, propelling him towards his bedroom.

'Bed,' he instructed, drawing over the armchair from the corner whilst Mike climbed under his covers. 'Right. Talk to me,' he said, seating himself next to Mike's bed, 'why didn't you tell me it was your birthday?'

'I don't know,' Mike said, 'I just didn't really want to bother you.'

Harvey frowned. 'You didn't want to _bother_ me? With the fact that it's your _birthday_?'

'Yeah,' Mike said, 'it's not like it's anything special. Great, I'm one year older. Why would you care?'

' _Why would I care?'_ Harvey repeated incredulously, 'Mike, whatever way you look at it, you are still legally a kid. It's your prerogative to have a fun birthday and it should be something special. As to why I would care – kid, it looks like you're going to be sticking around here for a while,' Harvey didn't miss Mike's wince at this statement, 'and that means you need to come to me with stuff like this, because even though it might not seem like it, I do ca… feel responsible for your wellbeing. Got it?'

'Yeah.'

'Good. What do you usually do for your birthday, then? Have a party?' Harvey asked.

'I… no,' Mike said. He hadn't had a real birthday party since before his parents had died, and he really didn't believe that any of his school 'friends' would want to spend the day with him. Most of them rarely acknowledged his existence, and even Trevor, who was ostensibly his closest friend, had completely ignored him since he'd messed up the drug run. 'I usually just catch a film or something with Grammy.'

'Alright, well that can easily be arranged,' Harvey said, quietly grateful that the kid didn't want anything too big, 'We can spend tomorrow morning however you want, and then I'll take you over to your Grammy's after lunch and pick you up when you're done. That sound good?'

'I mean, yeah, that would be great, Harvey,' Mike said, 'but you've got to go into the firm at lunch.'

'That can wait. It's your birthday, Mike, they don't come around too often,' Harvey said, the evident surprise on Mike's face stirring something like sadness in his gut. The kid obviously hadn't expected him to change his work plans for his birthday. Harvey was not a soft man, but he was receptive enough to emotion to find the boy's low expectations slightly hurtful. Raising Mike's opinion of him would take some time, but at least that was something the two of them were not short of now, it seemed.

'Thanks, Harvey,' Mike said.

'It's alright, kiddo,' said the older man, leaning back in his chair, 'I think it's time for you to try and get to sleep. You can barely keep your eyes open. Is there anything I can do that'll help?'

Mike frowned. He wasn't all too happy with the progression to 'kiddo', especially considering the fact that he had been a teenager for a _whole_ _year_ now, but he had to admit he was beginning to feel a little sleepy. Pulling his covers up to his chin, he considered Harvey's question. It suddenly occurred to him what had helped him sleep when he was younger, and he mumbled his response, his ears blushing red as he tripped over his words.

'What was that, Mike?' Harvey asked, his tone uncharacteristically gentle.

'Could you… could you maybe tell me a story?' Mike asked. At Harvey's lack of response, Mike panicked. 'Sorry, I shouldn't have asked, I know it's childish, my dad just used to do it when I was little and couldn't sleep and then my Grammy did it after he… after he couldn't anymore and it just really helped but I'm sorry, Harvey, you don't have to do it. Look, it's fine, I'm basically already asleep, you can leave now, sorry for waking you up. Night.'

'Hold it, Mike, I'm not going anywhere.' Harvey had been a little caught off guard by Mike's request, but like he'd said earlier, the kid had had a difficult night and he was more than happy to oblige if it would make him feel a little more comfortable. 'What kind of story?'

Mike, who's eyes had been had been firmly trained downwards, raised his head and met Harvey's gaze, surprise displayed once again on his features.

'Could you tell me a story from when you were younger? Like, from law school or when you were a kid?' he asked.

'Sure,' Harvey said, relieved by the simplicity of the request. To construct a fantasy story at half two in the morning would have been a little beyond his abilities, but he could manage a tale from his youth. 'Let me see… when I was eleven, me and my brother, Marcus, ended up in trouble with the police. Will that do?'

' _You_ were in trouble with the police when you were _eleven_? Why?'

'I'll take that as a yes,' Harvey chuckled. As he recounted the event from his childhood, Mike's eyelids drooped more and more heavily, until Harvey realised that the boy had finally fallen asleep. In sleep, Mike looked much younger than he really was, his face completely unguarded and peaceful. Harvey reached over and surreptitiously brushed a few strands of sandy hair off the kid's forehead, before raising himself from his chair as silently as possible and exiting the room.

* * *

Mike rested his head against the cool leather of the front seat of the vintage Mustang. It was Ray's day off, so Harvey was sat in the driver's seat next to him. A breeze ruffled his hair as they drove through the streets towards his Grammy's apartment with the roof of the car down. Watching the interminable rows of buildings flit past, Mike realised he could conclusively say that this was turning out to be his best birthday since his parents had passed away. He couldn't fault his Grammy's efforts to make his birthdays enjoyable, but she had had to pick up awkward shifts as a cleaner to support them both, meaning he'd spend the majority of his 'special day' alone, waiting for her to come home.

Today, though, he'd woken up to the smell of cooking and traipsed sleepily out of his room to find Harvey leaning over the hob in an apron, making pancakes.

'I didn't know what to make for you,' he'd said, 'but judging by your fondness for flat, round foods I figured pancakes were a safe bet.'

'I didn't have you pegged as the domestic type, Harvey' Mike had said with a smile, to which Harvey had grumbled something about 'birthdays not being a free pass to be a smartass' and shoved a plate of pancakes in his direction.

After breakfast, they'd gone food and (despite Mike's vehement protestations) clothes shopping. Apparently three tees, one hoodie and a pair of jeans didn't qualify as a suitable wardrobe in Harvey's opinion. After an hour, Harvey deemed Mike's new assortment of clothes satisfactory. He'd let Mike choose a restaurant for lunch, and, unsurprisingly, they'd ended up in a pizza place. Despite a small and irrational fear that lingered in the back of his mind that Harvey was going to get a call from the office and disappear on him, Mike had had a genuinely good day.

The midday traffic wasn't too bad and Mike and Harvey were soon sitting inside his grandmother's flat. Harvey had made the mistake of hovering in the doorway to tell Mike what time he'd be back to pick him up, and Edith had spotted him and 'invited' him in rather forcefully and plied him with tea and biscuits. Harvey hadn't wanted to impose on Mike's birthday plans with his Grammy, but the boy had seemed more than happy for him to stay and he now found himself seated on her flowery couch watching the original Casino Royale, sandwiched between the two Rosses.

Both of them had clearly watched the film many times, and between Mike's entertaining commentary and Edith's apparent wealth of stories from her youth that were loosely connected to the film, Harvey found himself quite enjoying the afternoon. As the remains of the 'Hotel Splendide' blasted across the screen and the end credits began to roll, he felt something bordering on regret that the movie was over.

Edith leant over, gently carding her fingers through her grandson's hair, and said, 'It's getting late. You two boys should probably be off soon.'

'Aw, but, Grammy-'

'No buts, Michael. As much as I want to keep you here forever, you'll get caught up in traffic if you don't leave soon and you should be getting home before sundown.'

Mike raised his eyes at the reference to Harvey's place as home. He cast an appraising glance over his grandmother, who was smiling slightly, and realised that Harvey must have filled her in via email about the situation with the cops. He felt as if a small weight had been shifted from his shoulders; he'd had a good afternoon, but lingering in the back of his mind had been the question of how to approach the subject with Grammy, and he was glad that Harvey had apparently beat him to it. The idea of inconveniencing the imposing lawyer for another 90 days was daunting enough in itself, and he was relieved that his Grammy seemed to be trying to make things feel a normal as possible.

'Your Grammy's right, Mike,' Harvey said, standing up, 'we better get going.'

Mike reluctantly pushed himself up off the couch. 'I bet James Bond gets to decide when and where he goes places,' he said, pulling on his jacket.

'You think yourself Bond, then?' Harvey said, 'which would make me, who, M? Bond's _superior_. Say bye to your grandmother.'

Mike leant over to let Edith kiss his forehead and walked over to where Harvey was waiting in the doorway. Grinning, he said, 'Maybe M _officially_ has more authority than Bond, but everyone knows Bond is superior in everything but name. I mean, look at the guy! He's more impressive physically and mentally, plus he's way cooler-'

'All very nice, kid,' Harvey cut him off, holding open the front door, 'but remember in this situation, M's the one with the money to buy the pizza Bond will _no doubt_ ask for despite the fact he already had some for lunch. Let's go.'

Mike shot a sheepish smile at the older man and ducked under his arm through the doorway, muttering, 'He's still cooler.'

* * *

Mike fought to suppress a yawn as the front door clicked shut, signalling Harvey's return. The man had stepped outside (with Mike's permission) an hour earlier to take a work call, leaving Mike alone with the remnants of their pizza and monopoly over his film collection. It was pushing half eleven, and despite his resolution that he would stay awake for all of his birthday, Mike was beginning to feel pretty tired as a result of his lack of sleep the night before.

Turning to face Harvey, his sleepy eyes widened at the small stack of neatly wrapped objects in the man's arms.

'Harvey?' He said, confused.

'Yeah, I might've lied about the phone call,' the lawyer replied, hanging up his coat, 'how else was I meant to find time to get these with the whole self-sacrificing 'let's not tell Harvey it's my birthday' stunt you pulled?'

'What are they?'

Harvey shook his head at the boy's bewildered tone.

' _Presents_ , Mike. For your _birthday_.'

'They're for me?' Mike asked, still taken aback. 'Harvey, you really didn't need to-'

'Shut it, kid,' Harvey said, dropping the small pile into Mike's lap and sitting next to him, 'here, open them before I regret buying them.'

There were four presents, all identically wrapped in simple brown paper. Three of them were clearly books, two thick tomes and one much thinner volume, and the other was a small square box. Mike started with the thinnest book, and gave a small laugh when he saw the title - 'Cryptic crosswords: 2017 world championships selection'.

'I figured those ones would take you more than ten minutes,' Harvey said.

He unwrapped the two larger books next. Both were introductory law books, second hand, but as Mike flicked through them he noticed 'Harvey R. Specter' scrawled in the covers of both and fastidious notes in the same hand in the margins of every page.

'Harvey, I-'

'I would've bought you brand new ones, but it's not as if I use these anymore,' Harvey said, 'If you don't want them, just say. I won't be offended. I just thought you might be interested in law, judging by the way you picked up my case file for a bit of light reading.'

'No, Harvey, I'm really grateful,' Mike said, 'I… I've always wanted to be a lawyer.'

'And you'll make a good one, one day. One more gift to go, Mike,' Harvey said, pushing the final box towards the boy. Mike accepted the present, carefully unwrapping the paper and removing it. He gently pulled the lid off the plain white box it revealed, and lifted out the watch he found inside.

It had a simple brown leather strap with white threading. The case and bezel were silver, and a tiny green stone sat in the crown. The face was a muted grey with white numerals and hands, and three chronograph subdials were set in the centre of the face in a glossy black. Despite the intricate details, the watch had beautifully minimalistic air, and Mike stared at it in awe.

'Turn it over,' Harvey said. Mike did so, tracing his fingers over the italicised letters he found engraved on the back; ' _Michael James Ross'_.

'I don't know what to say,' he said. He hadn't expected Harvey to buy him any presents, yet alone an expensive watch.

'My father gave me a watch for my fourteenth birthday, so it seemed right,' Harvey said, lifting his left sleeve so Mike could see his own wristwatch, 'Mike, you've got to accept that I'm not going anywhere. You wear your heart on your sleeve, kid – I've seen your shock each time I've done something mildly kind for you. I might seem cold, but I'm no monster. I made a conscious decision on the day you arrived in my office; I knew what I was getting myself into from the moment I told the cops you were my boy, and I was, and still am, more than willing to deal with it. You are _not_ an inconvenience, Mike, and you've got to stop acting like you are. You're not in this alone, son. We're going to get through the next 89 days together, and I hope the watch can be a reminder that I'm in this for the long run.'

Harvey gently took the watch from the hands of the speechless boy and placed it on his left wrist, doing up the clasp, and then sat back. He was aware he'd given Mike a lot to think about, and wasn't sure how he'd respond, but he definitely hadn't anticipated the fierce hug that the boy accosted him with.

'I'm not really a hugger, kid,' Harvey choked out.

'I know.'


	4. Chapter 4

**Well. Hello. I suppose the question that opens this chapter could probably apply to me too, and I don't have a great answer! School and work have been much more intense this term, so writing has not been at the forefront of my mind, and I will admit I lost inspiration for a while.**

 **However, whilst I'm afraid updates might be more sparse from me for a while (I'll try to upload as often as possible!) I do have a full arc planned for this fic and there is _much_ more to write, so if you feel like it, it might be worth sticking around!**

 **This chapter is not quite where I'd like it to be, but I really wanted to get something uploaded for you As ever, reviews are hugely appreciated! Apologies for the needlessly long A/N, I hope you enjoy reading this and have a lovely day.**

* * *

'Where the hell have you been?'

Harvey's sharp words echoed through the dark apartment. Mike froze, his fingers resting on the handle of the front door he'd just closed behind him. It was barely 11 o'clock, and Harvey hadn't made it home until past 12 all week, yet the man was very definitely leaning against the kitchen counter, arms folded, casting a thunderous look in his direction. A wave of frustration flushed through Mike; the lawyer was apparently annoyed at Mike's absence, and yet he'd seen the man for all of an hour over the past four days because he'd been busy at Pearson Hardman.

Gritting his teeth, he turned to face older man and offered a blunt, 'out.'

'Drop the tone. That's not the question I asked you.'

'Just went for a walk,' Mike replied. That was the truth – it just so happened that he'd hopped two trains and a bus as well. Harvey's neighbourhood was nice, sure, but there was only so much that could entertain a fourteen year-old that was in walking distance of the upmarket condo. He was beginning to get cabin fever from being cooped up in the same area and had taken a trip a little further afield. To walk more familiar streets had given him the breathing room he needed, but he had a feeling Harvey wouldn't be too impressed with the extent of his excursion so he kept the minor details to himself.

'You _just went for a walk_? For God's sake, Mike, I've been sitting here for two hours waiting on you – that's one hell of a walk!'

Yeah, definitely not impressed.

'Jesus, kid, it would've been fine if you'd let me know,' Harvey continued, 'it's my number one rule – drop me a text, send me a carrier pigeon, I really don't care as long as you tell me where you're going. I can't have you wondering the city at all hours, let alone without me knowing where you are.'

'Why not?'

'It's a big city, Mike,' Harvey said, raising a hand to halt the boy's objections. 'I don't doubt that you've got the whole street plan memorised, but you can't predict how the people walking those streets will act, particularly towards a teenager, alone. What if something happens and I don't know where you are, hm? You could have at least had the courtesy to answer your phone. I don't need any more cops knocking on my door, especially not ones with bad news about your wellbeing. How far did you walk?'

'Sounds like you care about me, Harvey.'

'Sounds like you're avoiding the question, Mike.'

'I went as far as central park,' Mike said, raising his eyes to gauge Harvey's reaction.

The man's eyebrows shot up. 'But that's-'

'6.3 miles away, yeah, I know,' Mike said, 'I'm sorry, Harvey, I just needed some space. I guess my phone must have died. It's just… it's not like you've been around a whole lot recently. I got bored.'

'You took a 13 mile round trip because you 'got bored'?' Harvey sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. His annoyance at Mike's disappearing act was beginning to dissipate, replaced instead by a sort of guilt. The kid had a point – Harvey had been too caught up in work over the past few days to have more than a brief conversation with Mike. Perhaps if he'd given him the time of day, the teenager would have felt he could ask Harvey if they could make trip together, rather than attempting an act of subterfuge. 'Look, kid, I'm the one that should be sorry. My work schedule is always gonna be unpredictable, but it has been particularly bad recently and I should have recognised the effect it would have on you. The case I've been tied up in is closed now, so I'll probably be around a lot more for the next few days. In fact, that's why I was home so early today – I thought we could have got a takeaway, watch a film-'

'I'm really, really sorry, Harvey,' Mike blurted out, his words tripping over each other. He was beginning to feel more embarrassed than anything else; Harvey had come home with the intention of doing something _nice_ with Mike, and yet instead he'd had to sit, alone, for hours, stressing over the whereabouts of his fourteen year-old charge. 'I just wasn't really thinking.'

'It's alright, Mike.' Harvey sighed, shaking his head. 'No, no, it's not alright. Damn right you weren't thinking - you broke my first rule and I don't want it to happen again, ever. What I'm saying is I understand. I meant it when I apologised. Seeing as I'm going to be home earlier tomorrow, too, maybe we could do something together that'll alleviate your boredom and stop you pulling another disappearing act? It's late, though, you should be getting to bed. Think on it.'

Mike's feeble objections died on his lips as he realised he was pretty exhausted. Shrugging off his jacket, he headed towards his bedroom.

'Will do, Harvey,' he said, 'night.'

'Night, kid.'

* * *

Harvey stepped out of the shower, gently humming a Miles Davis riff. Despite the small hiccup that Mike's absence had caused the night before, he was still riding on the slightly smug buzz that came from settling a case and he was in a genuinely good mood. Grabbing a towel from the rail, he stepped out of the bathroom, towelling off his hair.

'Morning.'

Harvey stopped in his tracks, damp towel still swinging from his hand. Bewildered, he looked between the clock, which definitely read 06:45, and the teenager sitting at his kitchen counter with a bowl of cereal.

'Morning?' he replied, confused. Mike had been fast asleep when he'd left for the office every day for the past week, and yet there he sat, very much awake, with an expectant look on his face.

'I want to come to the firm with you.'

'Mike…'

'No, really, you asked me to think about something I'd like to do and I'd like to do that!' Mike said, doing what in Harvey's opinion was an uncanny impression of an excited puppy. 'I promise I'll be really good and really quiet and I'll do everything you say. I just want to see where you work! It's a _real_ _life_ law firm!'

Harvey took a moment to allow his sleep-addled brain to catch up with the rambled proposition before properly considering the request. The prospect of having to babysit the kid at Pearson Hardman wasn't exactly enticing, but the boy's unaffected excitement had a persuasive quality and he found himself nodding.

'Alright,' he acquiesced, 'go and get yourself ready. Ray'll be here in half an hour.'

He was rewarded by a wide grin as the boy scrambled off his stool to get dressed.

* * *

Harvey smirked as Mike pressed his nose up against the glass of his office window, his jaw dropping as he surveyed the panoramic view of the city.

'The wind'll change and you'll stick like that, kid'

The boy spun around, mock surprise displayed on his face.

'Oh, sorry, I thought Grammy was here,' he said, voice dripping with sarcasm, 'cause you sounded _just_ like her.'

'Very funny. Now get your sticky fingers off my win-'

* _FLASH_ *

Harvey's retort was interrupted by a blinding burst of light and the sound of a shutter clicking as the red headed woman made her presence known.

'Donna,' Harvey growled, blinking furiously.

'Harvey,' Donna acknowledged, moving past the lawyer to corner the bewildered teenager. 'And you must be Mike! My goodness, I've heard so much about you, but you're so much more adorable than I could have possibly imagined.'

'Adorable?' Mike repeated.

'Adorable – just look at those eyes! I hope you don't mind this,' she said, gesturing at the Polaroid camera she carried, 'just with you looking so positively cute and Harvey going all paternal on you, I couldn't resist capturing th-'

' _Donna_ ,' Harvey raised his voice, cutting her off. 'What do you want?'

'You mean besides meeting the handsome young man you've been hiding away from me?' At Harvey's raised eyebrow, she continued, 'Yes, I suppose you do. I came to say you've got a 10 o'clock with Aldo Trent and Jessica wants you to liaise with Fogerty on the Schmidt-Lee merger, but that's all for today.'

Before Harvey could thank her, a sweaty and out of breath Louis Litt clattered through the door behind Donna.

'Ah, so this is the supposed child genius. I heard you brought him in to show off,' the man wheezed, leaning heavily on the door jamb. Advancing on Mike, he said, 'How much did he pay you to say that you came up with the Freston Motors solution? It's just the type of ploy that the partners will eat right up; saintly Harvey Specter taking in a poor orphan Mike and being humble enough to accept his help on a case. Go on, kid, give us mere mortals a glimpse of your brilliant mind. Tell me, what's 147 multiplied by 1154? Or give me the one hundred and fortieth line of 'Julius Caesar', act one, scene three? Or maybe tell me the-'

'Louis, stop torturing the poor boy.' The disapproving voice halted the flustered man's vehement tirade as the managing partner gracefully sidestepped past him through the doorway.

'Besides,' Jessica said, 'I think we both know that Harvey's too proud to let the credit for an idea as astute as the Freston Motors one go undeservedly to someone else. Nice to meet you, Mike. I want to personally welcome you to Pearson Hardman.'

Mike took the offered hand, not trusting himself to say anything that wouldn't embarrass himself in front of one of the most powerful women in modern corporate law.

Harvey rubbed a frustrated hand across his face, looking between the varying expressions directed towards him from the small army that had amassed in front of his desk.

'I must have missed the memo. I didn't realise my office is the new conference room,' he said, frowning. 'Now, if you don't mind, I've got a meeting to prepare for, so would you please get the hell out.'

At the raised eyebrows he received, he amended his request slightly. 'Louis, get the hell out and don't come back. Donna, Jessica, if you'd be ever so kind, some privacy would be greatly appreciated.'

'Gladly,' Jessica said, gliding out of the office. Donna followed, directing a warm smile at Mike, and Louis tailed reluctantly behind.

'Mr Litt?' Mike piped up just as the older man was leaving the room. Louis stalled in the doorway and frowned at Mike, who smiled sweetly back. 'It's one hundred and sixty nine thousand, six hundred and thirty eight. And 'the fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars but in ourselves, that we are underlings'. Just in case you were wondering.'

The man's frown deepened into a scowl and he strode off, visibly fuming.

* * *

The rest of the day passed fairly uneventfully, other than Harvey discovering Mike's penchant for disappearing acts extended beyond the home. Twice Harvey had to leave the teenager under Donna's watchful gaze whilst he attended meetings, and twice he had come back to see an empty office and a rather flustered Donna, who had nipped out on some two minute errand only to find a significant absence of Mike on her return.

The first time Harvey had spotted the boy in Louis' office, sporting a bewildered look as the aforementioned lawyer spewed a torrent of insults at him, red in the face.

Harvey had quickly extracted the kid from the danger zone, asking, 'What the hell did you do, insult the art of mudding?'

'Nope,' Mike had shaken his head, grinning, 'he just got his knickers in a twist 'cause I can recite more 20th century British war poetry than him.'

The second time, Harvey had tracked him down to the associates' bullpen. As if in some strange parody, the associates were sat cross-legged on the floor listening attentively to Mike, who was perched on a desk, swinging his legs back and forth and giving the group of Harvard graduates pointers on practising law.

They had left the firm a little earlier than Harvey's usual time, as although Mike was in his element at Pearson Hardman, Harvey could see the kid was getting tired. As they walked through the foyer towards the waiting Mercedes S550, Donna's voice echoed behind them. She darted over to Harvey, pressing some forgotten file to his chest, before pulling a startled Mike into a crushing hug.

'Here,' she whispered into his ear, tucking something surreptitiously into his jacket pocket, 'Harvey will hate this – candid photos are a little too honest for his liking. I thought you'd appreciate it, though, and it's just too cute!'

With that she disappeared back into the elevator. Harvey quirked an eyebrow at him, but Mike just shrugged, and the two continued in companionable silence towards the car.

* * *

Mike flopped down onto his bed. It had been a long day, but a good one. Pearson Hardman had been even better than he'd hoped, and even made friends with some of the associates. He'd always found adults a little easier to talk to than kids his own age. They weren't quite as spiteful.

Rolling over in bed, Mike frowned as something rustled under his pillow. He reached under it and pulled out a large brown envelope; his birthday present from Grammy – he'd completely forgotten about it! She'd pressed it into his hands as he'd said goodbye, telling him to open it alone, and by the time he went to bed on his birthday he'd wiped out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Scooting up his bed so he was sitting against the headboard, he carefully opened the envelope, tipping its contents into his lap. He stiffened at what he saw. Spread across his knees was a small pile of old photos, ones he'd never seen before, of him and his parents. They spanned from when he was a new-born, just a small bundle of cloth in the arms of his young mother, to a picture that must have been taken days before his parents' death of the three of them at a spelling bee Mike had won. He and his dad had never really seen eye to eye over Mike's extracurricular pursuits, with James Ross very much being under the opinion that sport should be central to a boy's life. And yet, at every spelling bee and mathletics competition Mike had competed in, his father had been there in the front row, sitting beside his mother, ever silent and stoic yet emanating barely concealed pride.

Mike rested his head against the cold wood behind him, allowing himself a moment of release. Time had failed to heal the pain of losing his parents, only dulled it from a pounding throb to numbed ache. He let a few tears fall silently as he pored over the remaining photographs, taking in every detail.

At the back of the pile was not a photo, but a handwritten note in what he recognised to be his Grammy's handwriting.

 _Michael,_

 _They say each cloud has a silver lining; suddenly finding myself with a lot of time on my hands recently has lead me to do many long put-off tasks, including getting your father's camera developed._

 _They will never leave you, Michael. No matter what you go on to achieve, your parents will always be a big part of your life. Perhaps having these photographs with you whilst you stay at Mr Specter's house will make you realise that your past and future are reconcilable within you. Your parents shaped you, yes, but there are others that will willingly play just as formative a role in your life, if you let them in. That isn't betraying your mother and father, Michael. It would make them proud, in the same way that they would be proud to see the fine young man you have already become._

 _See you soon. Be good._

 _Grammy_

The tears threatened to spill again. He was sure he knew who the 'formative' figure Grammy was alluding to was. Rubbing his bleary eyes, he hopped off his bed, rummaging through the desk draw to find what he needed to do one last thing before going to sleep.

* * *

Harvey cautiously pushed open Mike's bedroom door as silently as possible. It was past one o'clock, and he really didn't want to wake the kid. He'd stayed up to finish off the work he'd put off at Pearson Hardman in favour of looking out for Mike, but he admitted to himself that it had been worth it. The boy was good company.

Peering round the door to check that Mike was asleep, Harvey froze at the sight of a new addition to the décor. Blu-tacked to the wall next to the bed was an assortment of photographs from the boy's childhood, all with his parents, and, as Donna would have put it, all very adorable. Taking pride of place at the centre, however, was a much more recent picture. It was a polaroid of Mike and himself, taken earlier that day in Harvey's office. Harvey was leaning against his desk, posture relaxed, directing an unguarded smile at the teenager, who was returning an equally open grin and was no doubt in the middle of some sarcastic remark.

The corners of his eyes crinkled in a soft, unbidden smile. Harvey switched off Mike's lamp and shut the door quietly behind him with a low 'sleep well, kid'.


	5. Chapter 5

**Alright! Here's the next chapter – a little bit odd in places but nobody's perfect.**

 **Hopefully I'll have the next one up before the end of the year, but probably not before Christmas, so for those that celebrate it, I hope you have a really lovely Christmas!**

 **I really hope you enjoy the chapter. As always, reviews are appreciated, especially critical ones!**

 **(Trevor's parents are wholly a creation of my imagination, because, to my knowledge, we don't really find out anything about them in the show.)**

* * *

Harvey Specter strode out of the Principal's office, door swinging forcefully behind him. His face was unreadable, with only his tightly set jaw betraying his annoyance. He didn't offer a glance to the boy slouched miserably on the chair outside, who scrambled to catch up with him.

'Harvey… _Harvey_!' Mike said. The man's stride didn't falter. ' _Stop_!'

Harvey turned on him so quickly that it was all Mike could do to stop walking before he barrelled straight into him.

'Fighting? _Fighting_? Of all things, Mike, I didn't think I'd have to tell you not to fight,' he said, pinning the boy with a hard stare.

'Harvey, I'm sorry, I…' Mike tried.

'Not now, kid. I need time to calm down. So do you. I'll deal with you when we get home.' With that, Harvey turned on his heel and stalked out of the main entrance to the waiting car. Mike followed, nodding a miserable greeting to Ray and trying not to think about what Harvey 'dealing with him' might entail.

Harvey watched silently as the teen slumped into the seat next to him. The start of the school year hadn't been easy for either of them. He might not have been Mike's dad but he had sure felt all the anxiety of a parent on the first day of school; despite his impressive brain, Harvey knew just how small and vulnerable the kid could be, and he wasn't exactly tall for his age. Seeing him off at the start of the semester had felt like sending a puppy into a cage of angry Rottweilers.

Mike's response to school hadn't exactly been encouraging either. Over the past two weeks, he'd progressively become quieter and quieter, offering only desultory responses to Harvey's probing questions. Having realised that he wasn't going to get anywhere with the questions, he had resolved to call the school and ask if everything was normal, but they'd beaten him to it. He'd had to excuse himself from a meeting with a client to answer his phone, only to find out that they wanted him to come in and collect Mike because he'd been in a _fight_.

Disbelief had been Harvey's first emotion; he couldn't quite compute the fact that the amiable, eager-to-please fourteen year-old could have got in a scrap. His disbelief had soon been replaced by anger, which, by the time Ray pulled into the underground parking of their apartment block, had been dulled to a muted annoyance.

Thanking Ray, he stepped out of the car and headed towards the elevator, expecting Mike to follow behind him. At the sound of feet almost tripping over themselves to meet his pace, Harvey breathed a sigh of relief; at least the boy had retained some of his sense.

* * *

Mike sat on the living room sofa, fiddling intently with his watch strap. On the other side of the coffee table, Harvey cut an imposing figure, standing with his arms crossed and fixing him with a deeply unimpressed gaze.

'I don't know what you're trying to achieve by not answering my question, Mike,' the older man said, 'if you think behaving like a child is gonna reverse psychology me out of calling you 'kid', you're wrong.'

At the unrelenting silence Harvey received, he sighed and continued, frowning, 'I'm not being funny, Mike. You're beginning to test my patience. You managed to pick up a three day suspension in the second week of school. I'm not impressed, kid. If you can't-'

'I'm sorry.'

Harvey ran a hand through his already tousled hair, sighing again.

'I know you are, kid. That's just about the only thing you've said to me since I picked you up.'

Mike's eyes darted up to meet Harvey's, before flitting down to focus on his hands. Once again, no verbal response was given. Fully aware he was fighting a losing battle, the lawyer decided to try a different approach. Sidestepping the coffee table, he sat down on the couch next to the boy.

'Look, Mike, I just want to be able to see things from your perspective. I get that I'm not an easy guy to trust, but we can't spend the next few months not communicating at all. I'm trying here, kiddo, and I'd appreciate a little effort on your part.'

Mike looked up again, a small frown creasing his brow.

'There's nothing you can do about it, Harvey.'

'About what?' Harvey pushed, 'Is there something going on at school that you haven't told me about? Mike, I swear, if there's some kid picking on you-'

'It's not like that, I mean, not really. Just… just please don't be angry.'

'I'm not going to get angry at you.'

'I don't mean at me, Harvey, like, that would be nice and all, but what I mean is please don't get angry with _them_. It was all my fault and if you get all pissed off and talk to their parents or whatever, everyone'll think I need protecting and I _don't._ I can fight my own battles.'

Harvey bit his tongue before he could respond with a comment about how the impressive black eye Mike was sporting was a shining example of his ability to fight his own battles. Right now the boy needed gentle handling.

'How about you watch your language and I'll try and be as understanding as possible? Who are 'they', Mike?'

The teenager took his time to reply, opening his mouth as if to start speaking and then closing it with a sigh as if the words had escaped him, over and over again.

Finally, he said, 'Do you remember Trevor?'

Harvey frowned. 'The one who got you involved with the drugs, yes?'

Blushing a little, Mike said, 'Yep, him. He's not been making life super easy for me since school started. He was angry about the drug run going wrong, like, _really_ angry. I don't know why – his dad runs a chain of high end clothing stores so he isn't exactly strapped for cash. I guess he probably lost the respect of the gang that he hooked me up with because I screwed up. But yeah, he was, um, kinda my only friend, so with him icing me it was a little tough, but I managed. And then this week the names started, like, not just from him, from everyone. It was pretty impressive, to be honest. I think I even got a few members of the senior football team whispering nasty crap in my ear in the corridor. I guess Trevor decided I didn't look miserable enough already.'

'Why didn't you say anything?' Harvey asked, openly shocked.

Ignoring the question, Mike continued, 'And yeah, so today when I saw Trevor heading my way in the hall I'd just had enough of it all, so I, um, decked him before he could say anything to me. I mean, I know it was really unreasonable and not a grown up thing to do and you're going to tell me how I'm a hypocrite 'cause I get annoyed when you call me kid but I acted like a complete child, but also it felt damn good and knocked the smug look right off his face. And I don't regret it, Harvey! I mean, I sorta did when he totally pulverized me after, but I hurt a little less now so we can forget about that part.'

Mike finished his tirade, a little of the fear returning to his eyes at the realisation that perhaps he'd said too much.

Harvey was lost for words. The boy had an unsettling power to render him speechless. Had he been in Mike's shoes, he'd have most likely done exactly the same thing to the Trevor kid, except much sooner. That being said, it was irresponsible and reckless, and as Mike's guardian, he couldn't give the impression that it was the right thing to do. It was tricky to strike a balance between protecting the boy's self-confidence and discouraging his acting out.

Aside from that dilemma, Harvey was also struggling to comprehend the emotion he had felt as Mike recounted it all – a sort of cocktail of primal rage and something bordering on fear that had tugged at his gut, insistent that this was all _wrong_ , that this kid in his care was being _hurt_ by someone and he had done nothing to protect him. Perturbed, Harvey tried to shake it off. Mike had been adamant that he didn't need nor want a protector.

'Why didn't you say anything to me, Mike? Honestly.'

'Didn't know how you'd react.'

'Come on, kid, you've got to be a little braver sometimes. Whatever it is you have to say, I'll always listen. I can't make any promises about supporting you if you decide to punch anyone else, but maybe if you talk to me first we could work out a way to deliver a sort of metaphorical, legislative punch instead of you rushing headlong into it.'

'Metaphorical, legislative punch'?' Mike repeated with a small smile. 'Wow, Harvey, you're a little too cool for me.'

'That's a long-established truth, kid,' Harvey said. 'I'm not joking about this, though. You've gotta stop acting like you're alone or you're going to do yourself some serious harm. Next time anything like this happens, I expect you to tell me straight away. Understand?'

At Mike's nod, Harvey gave the boy's shoulder a firm squeeze and stood up.

'I've got some stuff to attend to at the office. You'll be okay here by yourself, right?' he said, pulling on his overcoat.

'When'll you be back?' Mike asked.

'No later than eight,' Harvey said, 'there's some leftover chilli in the fridge if you get hungry.'

'Kay. Bye, Harvey.'

'See you later, Mike.'

Harvey grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter and headed towards the door.

He paused for a moment in the doorway and called over his shoulder, 'Oh, you're totally grounded by the way. Just because I understand why you did it doesn't mean I'm impressed. For the next two weeks you're either at home, your grandmother's or school. Be good.'

With that, Harvey disappeared. Mike sighed and slouched into the sofa, pulling a blanket over himself. As he flicked through the channels on the TV, he realised he was the happiest he'd been in a while. Yeah, Harvey was still a tiny bit annoyed at him, and yeah, he was stuck at home for a fortnight, but after talking to him about everything, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

Mike kicked off his sneakers and swung his feet up onto the cushions, contentedly settling into the rerun of an old NCIS episode.

* * *

Harvey sat across the table from the couple, a forced grin plastered on his face. He'd found Trevor's parents to be surprisingly pleasant company, and yet his hackles had been raised the whole evening at the thought that their son had hurt the boy in his charge.

After leaving Mike at the condo, Harvey had swung by the firm, made a few calls and then done some research on the Evanses, before asking Donna to invite them out to dinner as a 'peace offering'. Two hours later, he found himself sitting with them at a swanky restaurant, drawing on deep reserves to maintain an amiable façade.

Trevor's father was a chubby, balding man, whose sole passion seemed to be menswear; Harvey wasn't sure if his waistcoat had ever been so thoroughly examined over dinner before. His wife was more conversational, even if her favourite topic was her only son. The way the woman shook her head and smiled fondly whilst regaling him with tales of her son's 'misadventures' made him feel slightly sick.

Finally, the meal came to a natural end and Harvey footed the bill. Mrs Evans excused herself to the washroom and he seized the opportunity to get Mr Evans on his own, telling her that they'd be waiting outside, and that he and her husband were going to clear the air with a 'little man-to-man chat'.

Mrs Evans smiled indulgently, saying 'You boys behave yourselves,' before heading off to the bathroom.

Outside, Harvey cornered Mr Evans. Ignoring the bewildered look on the other man's face, he let his voice take on a menacing edge and said, 'Tell me this, _buddy_. To what extent are you aware of your son's involvement with a drug ring, and his damn awful bullying of Mike Ross?'

The man bleated a nervous laugh, his small eyes darting around, looking for an escape route. At the lack of an answer, Harvey released a sigh.

'Disappointing, Mr Evans. And I was really beginning to like you,' he said, 'What the hell did you think you were doing, letting your teenage kid pull shit like that, hm? And dragging other kids like Mike into it?'

Mr Evans began to stutter a response, but Harvey raised a hand to halt him.

'Rhetorical questions, Mr Evans,' he said, 'and I'm not done yet. I've got a few more questions, and I'd like answers for these ones. Does your wife know about what Trevor's been getting up to?'

The man paled, shaking his head

'No, not really, but… I'm sure she'd understand,' he said, visibly trembling as Harvey stepped closer and raised an eyebrow.

'She'd understand what? That you let her precious son run wild with a group of criminals because you were too scared to confront him? Sounds pretty dangerous when you put it like that, huh?' Harvey smiled, pleased with the look his words had invoked on the man's face. 'Here, answer me this – does your wife know that your entire business is founded on fraudulent papers?'

Mr Evans' jaw dropped and his eyes popped open in an almost comic expression of surprise.

'I don't know what you think you're talking about, Mr Specter,' he stuttered when he'd regained enough composure to speak, 'but I think you should stop before you say something you can't take back.'

'Would you like me to spell it out for you, Mr Evans?' Harvey asked, 'To set up a business in this state, you need a state-issued business license. When you set up your business in 2003, you did not have one. They're only £225, probably negligible to you these days, but back then you were living in a one room apartment and expecting a child, and it was probably cheaper to forge one and hope for the best, yes? _Congratulations_ , Mr Evans, it looks like that move worked out for you. Although, a word of warning – if the authorities were made aware of just how long you've been operating without a valid license… Well, I don't think you'd be operating at all for much longer after that!'

Mr Evans gaped at Harvey, his eyes searching those of the lawyer's for some sign that this was all a joke, some twisted prank that would be over in a minute. Finding no such reprieve, his gaze fell downwards and his shoulders dropped in a resigned slump.

'What is it that you want from me, Mr Specter?' he sighed.

'A promise, Mr Evans, nothing more,' Harvey replied. 'You're going to act like a real father and put a stop to your kid's behaviour. It sounds like he's on a dangerous path that no one, not even me, wants to see him go down. You're also going to make him tell his friends to back off of Mike. That's for his own good, too, Mr Evans, because if your son ever sets a foot near my boy again…'

'I get it,' the man said, blushing slightly, 'and if I take care of Trevor, you won't say anything about, you know… the thing?'

'You've got it, Mr Evans!' Harvey grinned, 'I'm so glad that we managed to reach an understanding. Oh, and your wife's arrived just on time!'

Mrs Evans smiled a greeting at the two men, completely oblivious to her husband's distress.

'Did you boys sort things out?' she asked, looping a hand through his quivering arm.

'Absolutely,' Harvey replied, 'no bad blood, hm, Mr Evans?'

'No bad blood,' the smaller man echoed quietly, not quite meeting Harvey eyes.

'Well,' Harvey said, 'it's been lovely, but my ride's here and I really should be getting home.'

He leant in to kiss Mrs Evans' cheek before giving Mr Evans' shoulder a friendly slap, revelling at the way the man flinched at his touch.

'Until next time,' he said, climbing into the waiting car. Under the cover of the tinted windows, Harvey dropped the painfully forced smile for the first time that evening. There would absolutely, definitely, not ever be a next time.

* * *

'I have a proposition,' Harvey said around a mouthful of chilli. He'd got home well before eight and was sitting in the kitchen, helping himself to Mike's leftovers whilst the boy sat on the counter next to him, swinging his legs back and forth.

'Go on.'

'Right, so, you still need to go to school every day, but-'

'I'm not gonna lie, Harvey, that's not a wildly innovative proposition,' Mike cut in.

'Alright, kid, at least let me finish before you get all smart with me,' Harvey said. 'I've thought about everything you said, and I don't think you should be stuck for the better part of the week in a place that makes you feel so low. Honestly, I don't think you're really getting much academically out of school either.'

' _Really_.'

'Hey, I thought we were holding off the sarcasm until I was done,' Harvey said, rapping the boy affectionately on the top of the head, 'Anyway, I came up with a sort of compromise. There's this group for gifted kids which runs during school hours. Places are in pretty high demand, but the man who runs it is the brother of one of my old Harvard professors so I managed to bypass the waiting list and there's a place for you, if you want it. I thought maybe you could do two days a week at normal school doing normal fourteen year-old stuff, and then Wednesday to Friday you could go to this group.'

Mike thought about it. The prospect of only doing school twice a week seemed pretty inviting, but the idea of going to this 'gifted' group was more than intimidating.

'Take your time to think about it,' Harvey continued, 'if you don't want to rush straight into it, the owner, Dr Paroussos, has said you can try it out for a day, no strings attached.'

'I think I'd like that,' Mike said, finally.

'Alright, I'll give Dr Paroussos a call tomorrow.'

'Thanks, Harvey,' Mike said, 'not just for that, for everything. I mean it.'

'I know you do, kiddo.'

Mike smiled, hopping down from the counter. He took a seat on one of the bar stools and began to spin around on it, quizzing Harvey about his day at the office.

Expertly avoiding incriminating questions, Harvey watched the boy rotate in dizzied amazement. It was hard to believe that this was the same child as the closed-off, morose boy that had walked into the apartment hours earlier. Yes, Mike getting suspended in the second week of school was not an ideal circumstance, but Harvey sure was glad that it had happened.


	6. Chapter 6

**Long time no see! I'm sorry if the formatting's off on this chapter as I haven't had access to word, but it's something! It diverts a little more from the Suits canon than the other chapters, so if that's not what you're here for, sorry! I hope you enjoy it, though.**

 **I've had a lot on with school and life and all, but I'll work on getting the next chapter up as quickly as possible :) I have a lot more I want to include, and I definitely still have plans to finish this fic.**

 **Thank you so much for your reviews and favs and all. I really appreciate it, and those are what really motivate me to carry on writing. Thank you! Enjoy :)**

'Hey, slow it down, kid, you've barely said a word to me since you got in the car,' Harvey said to the teen making a beeline for his room. Mike paused, leaning on his door jamb, as the lawyer shrugged off his damp overcoat and asked, 'how was school?'

'Alright,' Mike shrugged.

'And the math test? Was that good?' Harvey pushed.

'Yep'

'What about Trevor,' Harvey tried again, 'is he still bothering you?'

'Nope'

God, this was like pulling teeth.

'What time do you want dinner?' Harvey asked. This time all he got was a disinterested shrug. Harvey frowned, trying to quell his growing irritation.

'I'm gonna need you to stop sulking, kid,' he said. The boy had been pouting like a stroppy toddler ever since Harvey had told him that he wouldn't be able to go with him to his trial session at Dr Paroussos' gifted group the next day, and quite frankly, he was tired of it. 'I know you wanted me to be there, and I did too, but I need to be in this meeting about the merger. You're a big boy, Mike, you'll manage just fine by yourself.'

Mike gave a flat laugh.

'You treat me like a child and expect me to act like an adult. Seems a bit contradictory.'

'You know why I treat you like a child, Mike?' Harvey said, folding his arms. 'Because you _are_ a damn child. My only expectation is that you act your age, and you're old enough to go to this goddamn nerd playgroup by yourself.'

'I'm not a child,' Mike said, quietly.

'In the eyes of the law-'

'I don't care,' Mike cut him off, 'we're not in court, Harvey. It's not always about legalities and clauses. You've gotta think about feelings and emotions and actions and stuff.'

'Well, I'm _feeling_ that you're _acting_ like a child.'

'Yeah? And I'm feeling that you're acting like a prick.'

Harvey covered the ground between himself and Mike in three quick strides, and Mike soon found himself nose to nose with the glowering lawyer.

'What did you just say to me?' Harvey said, his voice low. To his surprise, instead of lowering his gaze, the boy stared back at him, his eyes cold and angry.

'I'm not a fucking child.'

Harvey clenched his fists, taking a deep breath. The boy was making it exceedingly hard to keep a handle on his famous temper. They both needed space to calm down.

'Get the hell out of my sight,' he growled.

'Gladly,' came the flippant reply, as the bedroom door was slammed in his face.

* * *

Mike knew he was being difficult. He knew that Harvey was trying his best and he knew that he had been purposefully pushing the man, and yet he hadn't stopped. He'd been feeling like shit all day and some cruel, primal instinct inside him wanted Harvey to feel the same way. This time of year was never easy for him, and it didn't help that this year he wasn't with Grammy.

Sighing, he threw his backpack onto his bed with a little too much force. The zip caught on the bedpost, and books and schoolwork spilled out onto the floor. It was the trigger that Mike didn't realise he'd been waiting for, and suddenly, weeks of pent-up frustration at his situation flooded through him. Blindly, he swung at the wall, his fist searching for solidity, longing for a reminder of constancy, a flash of pain to take his mind off the ache in his chest.

His knuckles never reached their target. Instead, his fist connected with the Jonathan Adler mirror hanging on the wall. There was a piercing crack and small shards of glass sprayed out across the room, showering Mike in dust.

 _'_ What the _hell_ was that?' came Harvey's thundering voice from the living room, followed by hurried footsteps. Mike's bedroom door was thrown open and the lawyer stalled in the doorway, eyes flitting between the designer mirror now webbed with cracks and the teenager staring at the blood pooling between his knuckles.

'Shit,' the lawyer breathed.

Mike raised his head, meeting Harvey's searching gaze. The cold anger he had felt earlier had all but drained away, and instead he just felt sort of empty. His breath caught in his throat as the older man stepped towards him. God, Harvey must be pissed; on top of swearing earlier, he'd just shattered a mirror that was probably worth more than the sum of everything Mike had ever bought.

Instead of shouting at him, though, Harvey wordlessly took Mike's injured hand in his own. He examined each bloody knuckle, then turned it over, looking over the palm for damage. Gently manipulating each finger, he asked, 'This hurt?'

Mike shook his head no.

'Good,' Harvey said. 'No trip to the ER today.'

Mike didn't say anything. Harvey's voice was scarily calm and he couldn't gauge how angry the man was, so he decided the best course of action was just to shut up and avoid further antagonising him. He let Harvey lead him to the bathroom and clean up his hand. He cried out as the man sluiced the open cuts with antiseptic, but Harvey just steadied him in a firm grasp and got it over with quickly, and his hands were surprisingly gentle as he dexterously removed a small shard of glass caught between two fingers. Harvey was slowly wrapping the his hand in a bandage, taking care to avoid putting excessive pressure on the cuts, when Mike finally decided that enough was enough.

'Harvey?' he asked.

'Uh huh,' Harvey responded, still focused on the task of tying up the bandage.

'Can you stop being nice to me?'

Harvey chuckled. 'You sure?' he asked, deftly tucking in the end of the bandage before stepping back to admire his work.

'I mean, I don't _want_ you to be angry with me,' Mike said, 'but I'd rather you just get it out the way and shout at me. This Mother Theresa act is unsettling.'

Harvey folded his arms and leant against the counter behind him.

'What have you done that would make me angry with you?' he asked.

'For a start, I broke your mirror, got blood on your carpet, swore at you and I guess my attitude hasn't... I mean, it's been, well-'

'Pretty damn awful?' Harvey suggested.

'Um, yeah,' Mike said, blushing. 'I'm really sorry, honestly.'

'That's the thing, Mike,' Harvey sighed, 'I believe you. You're genuinely sorry and you know you were in the wrong. That and the whole sad, injured puppy thing make it hard to stay angry with you.'

'I'll pay for the mirror,' Mike said, choosing to ignore the puppy comment.

'No you won't.'

'Harvey, I don't need you to make concessions for me,' Mike said, frustrated. 'It was my fault. I... I didn't mean to do it, but I just... well, I did, and I've gotta take responsibility. You're already paying for one of my mistakes by letting me stay here, I don't need you to catch the bill for any more of them. I'm not a charity case.'

'I know that, kid,' Harvey said, 'but you're not paying for that goddamn mirror. I never liked it anyway. Too angular. Didn't fit the room.'

'Harvey...'

'Don't. Enough about the mirror,' Harvey said firmly. 'What I do want to know, though, is why you took a swing at it in the first place? I get that I rub people up the wrong way, but they don't usually resort to violence. Well, this early at least.'

The teen shrugged, looking away.

'Mike,' Harvey pushed, 'you're not a violent kid, nor an angry one. There's something else going on, and you're keeping me in the dark. That's not a place I like to be.'

Harvey watched as the boy struggled internally over how much to tell him. Several times, Mike opened his mouth as if to say something, before closing it again abruptly. He was not a patient man, but he knew he had to give the boy time or he'd get no answer at all.

Finally, Mike said, 'It's just not easy. It was three years ago tomorrow.'

'What was?' Harvey asked, his brow crinkled in confusion. Three years ago Mike would have been 11, placing him not with Edith but with his parents. _His parents._ The realisation hit him like a tonne of bricks.

' _Crap_ _,'_ he breathed. 'I didn't know, Mike, I'm sorry, I-'

'Don't be,' Mike said, offering a small smile. 'I didn't want you to know. Sometimes it's easier to deal with stuff by yourself, without other people telling you how you should feel or how they feel about how you feel or how much they 'understand' what you're going through. I guess it just sorta spilled out today and I'm sorry that your mirror was the victim. It won't happen again.'

'Goddammit, Mike, how many times do I have to say it? That mirror is the least of my worries, and it shouldn't be one of yours,' Harvey said, running a hand through his hair. 'I'm, uh, not the best example for healthy sharing of emotions, but you need to realise that sometimes talking it out is the best thing to do. Yeah, it's not easy when the thing that's making you upset is something no one can offer solutions too, and I can't pretend that I can imagine what it must feel like, but it's like a pressure relief valve, kid. You've got to open up every once in a while or you explode. And you never know what innocent Jonathan Adler mirrors may be hanging nearby when that happens.'

'Harvey, I-'

The man stopped Mike's protestation with a wave of his hand, saying, 'Jonathan Adler mirrors that I don't mind saying goodbye to. What I'm saying is maybe next time consider talking to me about whatever's going on before it reaches the stage where you need to take a swing at something, whether it's Trevor or a mirror or whatever, yeah?'

'I'll try, Harvey,' Mike said.

'That's all I can ask for.'

They were interrupted by the trill of Harvey's ringtone. Seeing it was Jessica, Harvey gave Mike an apologetic look and answered.

'Jessica.'

'Harvey. Tell me why I've got Angus Fogerty in my office complaining about you being unreachable and yet you answer me the minute I call?'

'Ah. I might have blocked Fogerty's number on my cell after he tried chatting up Donna.'

'Harvey Reginald Specter, you did _what_? I knew you had a kid staying with you but I didn't realise you'd become a melodramatic teenager,' scolded the managing partner.

'Sorry, _mom_ ,' Harvey threw back. 'I'll call Fogerty later.'

'You'll call him now,' came Jessica's blunt reply. 'The merger meeting is tomorrow morning. I need you communicating with each other.'

'About that...'

'Do not let me down.' Her tone was dangerous.

'Absolutely not,' Harvey replied cheerily. 'I just feel like Fogerty would handle this better alone. I don't want to get in his hair, you know, interrupt his flow.'

'Harvey...'

'So I'll be in a little later tomorrow morning.'

' _Harvey.'_

 _'_ Thanks for calling, Jessica.'

'Do not han-'

Jessica's protest was cut off as Harvey hung up the call.

'She sounded angry,' Mike commented. 'Bad news?'

'Nope,' Harvey said, 'you could hear her, then?'

'Yeah, a little... Reginald,' Mike said, laughing at Harvey's mock horrified expression. 'Why was she so annoyed?'

'I might have told her that I couldn't make the meeting tomorrow morning.'

'Why?'

'I thought it might be fun to come with you to see Dr Paroussos' group.'

Mike's eyebrows shot up. Harvey had flatly refused to accompany him on the grounds of how important this meeting was despite Mike repeatedly asking, and now he was suggesting himself that it would be 'fun'.

'You faced Jessica's wrath for me?'

'No, I faced Jessica's wrath so I could avoid going to a pointless meeting with the most boring lawyer in Pearson-Hardman. Angus Fogerty has about as much personality as a potato,' Harvey said, 'Anyway, her bark is worse than her bite. And its easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.'

* * *

Mike felt like he'd stepped into another world. The entrance to Dr Paroussos' building was dingy and unassuming; a small door in a peeling wall, sandwiched between a charity clothing store that appeared to be stuck in the 1970s and a closed laundromat that, from the smell, appeared to be a front for a cannabis farm. Casting a cautious glance at Harvey, who appeared unperturbed, Mike had knocked cautiously on the door, which swung right open.

They'd followed a winding set of stairs up to a small corridor, which had opened out into the room they stood in now. Mike was still struggling to comprehend how a room of such lofty proportions could fit into the small New York backstreet. In front of him lay an extensive library, with a cylindrical main chamber lined with bookshelves that extended far up to a domed glass ceiling. Passageways were dotted around the walls of the room, winding off towards what Mike had no doubt were more stores of books. At different levels of the room, platforms had been constructed, and ladders and ropes bridged the gaps between them. It was sort of like a librarian's wet dream.

Kids of different ages were sprawled across the room, some draped in hammocks, books in hand, whilst others were clustered in small groups, chatting quietly but with fervour. In the centre of the room sat a curved oak desk, with a group of boys about his age leaning on it, chatting, relaxed. Behind it sat a tanned, portly man with a shock of tightly curled white hair and a matching beard. His face had strong features and a prominent, aquiline nose, but with a friendly, open quality. He was surveying the room with a satisfied smile. Mike couldn't help but thinking that he looked very much like a Greek Santa.

In that moment, Greek Santa's eyes settled on Mike. His smile widened, and he gestured for them both to come over. Mike suddenly wanted nothing more than to turn on his heel and run back to Harvey's condo. He didn't belong here. This was a place for intellectuals, for academic high flyers. He was no more than a liability.

Harvey gave him a small shove into the room. A few of the boys at the desk had followed Greek Santa's gaze and turned to look at him expectantly, giving him no choice but to walk over to the man, who greeted him with the warmth of an old friend.

'Mr Michael Ross,' he said cordially in a strongly accented voice. His intonation was almost tuneful. ' I am Dr Aristophanes Paroussos. Good to finally meet you.'

'You too, sir,' Mike replied, unsure of what else to say. He shook the proffered hand.

'And the famed Mr Harvey Specter,' Dr Paroussos continued, 'My brother speaks highly of you.'

'And I would speak higher of him, given the chance, Doctor,' Harvey replied. 'Thank you for agreeing to let Mike bypass the waiting list.'

'Yes, well, you helped my brother out of that delicate situation with his spouse, so let us call it a quid pro quo, eh?' Dr Paroussos said.

'Ah, well, it was just luck that his ex-wife was a Michael Jordan fan,' Harvey replied, smiling. 'Those charges she threatened would have been hard to shake, though.'

'Indeed,' Dr Paroussos said with a chuckle. 'Well, I am sure Michael will enjoy his time with The Frogs, however long it may be.'

Harvey quirked a brow.

'The Frogs?' he queried.

It was Mike, who had been watching the conversation, perplexed at the allusions to some prior encounter, who replied.

'Like the comedy, Harvey. You know, the one by Aristophanes? Cause the doctor's first name is Aristophanes too. It got first place at the Lenaia at the Dionysia in Athens in 405 BC,' he said.

'No, kid, surprisingly I didn't know that,' Harvey said, deadpan. 'I've got to go, or Jessica will quite literally have my head. See you in a couple hours.'

'See you, Harvey.'

'Thank you, Dr Paroussos,' he directed to the older man. Gesturing at Mike, he added quietly, 'Keep an eye on him.'

'I would not worry about him, Mr Specter,' the doctor replied. 'He will fit right in here.'

Harvey squeezed Mike's shoulder and walked down the corridor towards where Ray was waiting.

'A formidable man,' Dr Paroussos commented, 'You are lucky that he cares so greatly for you.'

'Oh I don't.. He's just- I mean, I'm just living in his house,' Mike said, turning to face the doctor.

Dr Paroussos simply held his gaze. His eyes seemed to hold a permanent amused, knowing glint, as if he held some higher knowledge that he found very entertaining.

Finally, the man said, 'Well, I suppose we must find you a _fílos_ , a friend, to look after you.'

He leant over his desk, towards the group of boys. They had long lost interest in the new arrival and had gone back to their conversation, which, from what Mike could tell, seemed to be on the philosophical implications of string theory.

'Isambard,' Dr Paroussos said.

A tan boy with a mop of wild brown hair and bright eyes turned around.

'Doctor?'

'This is Michael. He is here to see if The Frogs are for him,' Dr Paroussos explained. 'Would you show him around?'

'Course, sir,' the boy said, grinning at Mike. He nodded at his friends, who went back to their discussion as if they had never left off, and hopped over the back of a sofa, landing next to Mike.

'I'm Sam,' he said, 'ignore the doctor. He has a thing about shortening names. You'd think that having a killer name like 'Aristophanes' would make you open to nicknames, but he has this spiel about how with each syllable lost you lose part of the soul. Ridiculous, right? Ouch!'

Mike laughed as a small notebook hit the back of Sam's head.

'I can still hear you, Isambard,' Dr Paroussos said. 'Now, shoo, before I throw the entirety of Artamène ou le Grand Cyrus at you. That would knock out a few brain cells, and you haven't got many spare, eh?'

'Message received, sir,' Sam said, excitedly pulling Mike by the arm towards one of the many ladders.

* * *

' _Isambard Kingdom Brunel Ainsworth.'_

The piercing shout echoed through the library, floating up to the balcony where Mike and Sam were buried in a pile of beanbags, flicking through a stack of books. Mike at ease in Sam's company. Sam had shown him around and introduced him to most of the other Frogs, whose ages spanned first graders to college age kids, and then they had climbed the ladders to the highest platform below the domed balcony. That's where they had been sat for the past two hours, talking about books and philosophy and art. Mike had never met anyone who could hold a conversation in the same way that Sam could, and yet he didn't feel like he was Sam's intellectual inferior either. Time had passed by quickly, something that he was incredibly grateful for, considering what the date was.

'Shit,' Sam said, scrambling to get down the first ladder. 'that's me.'

Mike followed him, saying, 'Hang on, your full name is Isambard Kingdom Brunel? Like, as in, Isambard Kingdom Brunel, the famous English Architect?'

'Yep,' Sam said, hopping down a staircase. 'Pretentious, right?'

'I mean, kinda,' Mike said.

'Uh huh, and I didn't even get saddled with the worst name. My brother's full name is Buckminster Fullerene Asquith Ainsworth.'

'Jesus.'

'My parents have a passion for science and maths. It sorta sucked for them when Bucky turned out to be a musical prodigy and I'm more of a poetry and arts kinda guy.'

'Yeah, well, you're just two solid cases against nominative determinism,' Mike said, stepping off a rope ladder onto the ground floor.

'Yup,' Sam agreed as they headed towards where Dr Paroussos stood with a poised woman, who he assumed to be Mrs Ainsworth. Mike was surprised but happy to see Harvey standing next to them, and gave the lawyer a small wave.

'Isambard,' the woman scolded, 'I have been calling your name for ten minutes. We are already late for your father's lecture at NYU. Let's go. Now.'

'Sorry, Mom,. Bye, Doctor,' Sam said, in a suitably chagrined tone. He flashed a grin over his shoulder at Mike. 'See you around.'

'See you, Sam,' Mike returned the smile.

Harvey watched the interaction, pleased to see his boy's unguarded happiness.

'We better go too, kid,' he said.

Mike nodded.

'Thank you, Doctor,' he said.

Dr Paroussos took Mike's hand, enveloping it in his own. 'No, _efharisto_ , thank _you,_ Michael. I hope to see you soon, yes?'

'I hope so too, sir,' Mike said.

'Good,' the doctor said. 'Goodbye for the moment, Michael.'

'Bye, sir.'

Mike and Harvey headed towards the doorway that they had passed through together hours earlier.

Holding open the door for the teen, Harvey said, 'I'm afraid it's a bit of a walk to the car. Ray refused to park on this street again on the grounds that having a car that smells like weed might damage my business prospects.'

'That's okay.'

'Good. Tell me about the toads.'

' _Frogs,_ Harvey. You said that on purpose,' Mike grinned. Harvey listened as he contentedly chattered about the library, about the magnanimous doctor, and his new friend Sam who was bright and funny and had published his first poetry folio by the age of nine.

Finally, they made it out of the network of insalubrious backstreets and found Ray's chosen parking spot. As they were approaching the car, Mike's chatter tailed off and he cautiously asked, 'Harvey? It is okay if I go back to The Frogs, isn't it? Only, if you don't want me to, that fine, I just was wondering i-'

'Of course you can go again,' Harvey cut into the boy's flustered questioning. 'I'm happy for you, kid.'

He reached over and gave Mike's hair a nonchalant ruffle before climbing into the waiting Tesla Roadster.

Mike thought about his day. Happiness hadn't come this easily for a long time.

'Me too,' he muttered to himself, following Harvey into the car.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello! It's fair to say it's been a while, but here's the next chapter! I haven't given up on this fic an I have no plans of doing so. Work and school will always get in the way, but something keeps me coming back to writing it. Even though it's been literal aeons since I last updated, I'm always checking reviews and PMs when I get a can, so if get a chance or if you just feel like it, please do drop me one** **It's massively helpful for me, especially critical ones!**

 **Enjoy and I hope you have a good day!**

 **(Also my PMs are always open to fic recs)**

* * *

Harvey hung up the phone and reclined in his desk chair, feeling pretty smug. He'd just closed a deal that Louis had been working on for weeks in all of 14 minutes, meaning his third quarter bonus was lining up to be fairly sizable, and to top it off, things with Mike were going well. The kid seemed _happy_ , for once. The Frogs had brought him back to life; yeah, perhaps the boy's constant chatter about his new friends and 'cool' facts he'd learnt was slightly grating after a long day at work, but he'd much rather have animated, cheery Mike than the morose, moping teenager he'd had to deal with for the first few weeks of the semester.

He was pulled out of thought as Donna appeared in his doorway, phone in hand.

'Harvey, it's-'

'Come on, Donna, I thought I made it clear,' Harvey cut in, tipping his chair back slightly. 'I get a 20-minute celebratory window to rest on my laurels before taking on any more cases. Tell them I'll call back later.

'Harvey, it's _Mike._ ' Donna repeated, her tone urgent.

Harvey was across the room in seconds. He took the phone from his assistant, mouthed a quick 'thank you' and pressed it to his ear.

'Harvey Specter. Who's speaking?'

'Ah, Mr Specter,' came the male voice from the other end, 'I take it you're responsible for Michael Ross?'

'I am,' Harvey said, before repeating his question with a little more force. 'Who am I speaking to?'

'Dr Stephen Macham, Bellevue Hospital ER.'

 _Fuck._ He'd been sitting there, self-satisfied, whilst the kid was in the goddamn hospital.

'What happened?' he asked.

'As I told your wife-'

'My assistant,' Harvey interjected.

'Forgive me, Mr Specter, as I told your assistant, it's nothing to worry about,' the doctor continued. 'Mike was in a lot of pain when he arrived, but we've minimized that now, which is reassuring, and his obs have stabilized.'

Harvey was feeling neither reassured nor stable. The doctor's circumspect speech was giving him no answers. All he knew was that Mike was hurt and most likely alone.

'Respectfully, Doctor - cut to the chase,' Harvey said brusquely.

'Respectfully, Mr Specter, I was just getting there. Mike fell of his bike this afternoon. He's cracked the growth plate in his right wrist and fractured the radius on the same side. It looks like he caught his head when he fell and we had to give him a few stitches, but I'm fairly certain he's not concussed. Other than that, he's fine, if a little bruised.'

'Right,' Harvey said, trying to process Macham's words. 'I'm leaving the office now. I'll be 20 minutes max.'

'Good. Mike's in ward 6, bed 2,' Dr Macham said. 'And I have to warn you, Mr Specter, the boy may be a little... odd.'

'I'm sorry?'

'The pain medication he's on can leave patients a little out of sorts,' the man explained. 'Don't be too surprised if he's not his usual self.

* * *

'Harvey!' Mike's voice rung out over the quiet ward. 'I told them you'd come! I mean, I didn't really know if you would come or not, but it felt nice to say that someone was coming for me even if you weren't, so I said it anyway. I hope I didn't interrupt any big lawyer-y things. Oh, god, Harvey, you're a big lawyer, of course I interrupted some big lawyer-y things. Are you gonna sue me? Is that why you're here? Please don't sue me, Harvey.'

Christ on a bike, Harvey thought. Whatever meds the doctors had put the teen on had removed any filters he had. Yeah, he was usually a talker, but right now his mouth was running faster than Usain Bolt on speed.

'How are you feeling, kid?' Harvey asked, sitting in the plastic chair next to Mike's bed. The boy was propped up on a pile of hospital-issue pillows, his face flushed and his hair sticking up at the back in a way that seemingly defied gravity. A cut on his right temple was framed by a nasty bruise and there was a lurid green cast on his forearm, but, to the lawyer's relief, he looked considerably healthier and more perky than Harvey had feared when he'd found out that the kid had ended up in hospital.

'I'm just fine,' Mike replied, 'thanks for coming but you can leave if you want, I mean, you don't have to go, but if you want to, that's really quite okay with me. I don't want to stop you from doing all your big lawyer-y things, and I'm not quite sure that I have the funds to sustain a legal case if you do sue me. Grammy only gave me a dollar a week of pocket money and a quarter for every chore I did, which was really quite unfair considering what the Fair Labour Standards Act says, but anyway that means I only have $17.50 to my name.'

'I'm not going to-'

'Oh, I forgot about the ten dollars I found on the street last week! That makes it $27.50!' Mike cut in, his initial delight at the realisation soon turning to fear. 'I shouldn't've kept that, should I? Oh, God, that wasn't very lawful of me, I-'

' _Mike_ ,' Harvey said firmly. The boy stopped his flustered rambling and looked at the lawyer, startled. 'I'm not going to sue you, and I'm definitely not leaving.'

'Oh,' the teen said, appearing visibly relaxed at the revelation.

'I need you to answer my question, though,' Harvey continued. 'How are you feeling, really?'

'A little sore and tired,' Mike said, 'but mostly actually fine. And a bit regretful.'

'Regretful?' Harvey questioned.

'Yeah,' Mike said, gesturing to his immobilised arm, 'the doc let me choose the colour of my cast and I chose green 'cause I thought it would be a cool green, like a sorta Hulk green, but instead it's more of a puke green.'

Harvey laughed.

'You're right about that, kid,' he said. 'It's less Incredible Hulk and more incredibly offensive to my eyes. Did the doctor say when it comes off?'

'Yeah, two weeks,' Mike said, grinning.

'Jesus,' Harvey groaned, 'I'm gonna have to purchase myself a new pair of sunglasses to cope. How about your head, kid? With those stitches you're giving off more of a Frankenstein vibe than a Hulk one. You've got your green dudes mixed up.'

'No, I was actually aiming for Harry Potter. I'm still waiting for Hagrid to whisk me away to Hogwarts,' Mike laughed, tentatively touching the jagged cut on his forehead.

'Funny, kid,' Harvey smiled, shaking his head. 'How did it happen? All the doctor on the phone said was that you fell of your bike, is that right?'

'Um, sorta, yeah,' Mike said, a flush of embarrassment creeping into his cheeks. 'I was hit by a car, but-'

'I'm sorry, you were _hit by a car?'_ Harvey interjected. 'Tell me the license plate.'

'No, Harvey, it's not-'

'Do not pretend you can't remember it,' Harvey said, his tone dangerous. 'Someone put you in hospital because of their careless driving and they're going to pay for it.'

'Really, it wasn't like that,' Mike said, his cheeks bright red. 'I, um, ran a red light.'

'You did _what?'_ Harvey's anger at the car's driver did a U-turn, homing in Mike like a heat-seeking missile. Taking a deep breath, he leant back in the plastic chair, trying to calm down. He ran a hand wearily over his face and looked at the boy, who was staring back at him with wide, frightened eyes. Sighing, he decided that the kid had been through enough today. Reigning in his temper, he asked, 'how did it happen?'

'I saw someone that I recognised, and I didn't notice that the light had changed,' Mike replied, 'the next thing I knew I was looking up at the sky and my bike was on top of me.'

'Jesus Christ, kid. For someone so bright you can be wildly oblivious sometimes. You've got to keep a better eye on what's happening around you.' Harvey admonished. 'Was it a girl?'

Mike, who had just about recovered his composure, flushed bright red again.

Harvey smirked. 'Who is she?'

'She's called Rachel, and she's, um, really pretty, like she's got this super nice shiny hair, and she's the really good at modelling with differential equations,' Mike blushed. 'She goes to my school and I've never really, uh, spoken to her per se, but she sits in front of me in AP biology and she handed me a pencil last week.'

'Oh, yeah? She sounds lovely, kid,' Harvey said, trying to keep a straight face. 'Was she worth getting hit by a car for?'

'Definitely,' Mike said, his face the picture of seriousness. 'She was the one that called 911. I didn't even think she knew my name, but she said, 'are you okay, Mike'! And she said I was really brave!'

'That's really great, Mike,' Harvey said, before adding more seriously, 'Next time I'd rather your attempts to woo her don't end up in a hospital visit, alright?'

'Yeah, 'kay,' Mike said, 'I'm gonna end up with a pretty cool scar, though, don't ya think? On my head? There was a study in 2008 at the University of Liverpool that found that scars make men 5.6% more attractive, which is odd when you think about it because they're a sort of disfigurement really, aren't they, but we can overlook that because maybe Rachel will find me more attractive. Have you got any scars, Harvey? Do they help with girls?'

Harvey raised an eyebrow. After the last few minutes of lucid conversation, Harvey had assumed that the effect of Mike's meds had worn off, but the boy was either still slightly off his head or was just intent on talking himself into an early grave.

'Listen to me, Mike,' he said, pinning the boy with a firm gaze. He made sure he had Mike's full attention before continuing. 'You're a clever boy, I'm sure you can imagine how worried I was this afternoon, knowing that you were in hospital, in pain, alone. However fun and trivial this experience was for you, I don't want to go through it again. I want your word that it's not going to happen again.'

'Sounds like you care,' the teen said with a small smile.

'I'm not joking, Mike. I want your word.'

Mike sobered under the lawyer's steely gaze. 'You've got it. It won't happen again. I'll be more careful next time.'

'Good.' Harvey said, satisfied. He leant forward, gently brushing a few strands of the boy's sweaty hair out of his eyes, and said, 'You're right, you know. I think, perhaps, I do care.'

Mike's eyes widened, and he looked as though he might be about to say something, but before he could, the door to the ward swung open and a doctor in pale blue scrubs strode in. Harvey abruptly withdrew his hand from the boy's head and stood, extending a hand to the doctor, a picture of professionalism.

'Mr Specter is it?' the doctor asked. He was a tall man, lean but not lanky, with close-cropped grey hair. 'Dr Stephen Macham, I believe we spoke on the phone earlier.'

'Ah, yes,' Harvey said, recalling the phone conversation slightly bashfully. 'I apologise for snapping. I really don't know what came over me.'

'No harm, no foul, Mr Specter. It's quite natural to be irritable when you're stressed about the wellbeing of a child,' Dr Macham smiled, 'Believe me, I've had much worse directed at me before.'

'I'm still sorry. Thank you for looking after Mike.'

'It's my job, Mr Specter,' the doctor smiled again. 'I was actually just popping by to give you two some good news; I just got the x-rays through and it looks like we don't need to operate, so your boy's free to go home.'

'Brilliant, thank you,' Harvey said, chuckling as Mike did a celebratory fist pump.

Dr Macham left Harvey with a list of prescriptions and instructions for delivery and dosage, and it wasn't long before they were packed and off to meet Ray where he waited for them in the car park.

* * *

Harvey sighed wearily, his eyelids drooping. He was slumped on his living room sofa with Mike sprawled next to him, the boy's head resting in his lap. His left hand was rubbing slow circles on Mike's back and his right was loosely resting on a big kitchen bowl, poised and ready to grab it should the kid need to spew.

Harvey had thought they were home and dry once Mike had been discharged from the hospital, but it was far from plain sailing. The meds had made the teen drowsy, and he'd was in such a deep sleep by the time that Ray dropped them home that Harvey had had to literally carry him to bed. Barely ten minutes had passed, however, before the boy came rushing out of his room, wide awake, and projectile vomited down the front of Harvey's three-piece suit before bursting into sobs. Despite a number of assurances that it really was only his second best three-piece and that dry cleaning would definitely fix it, Mike was inconsolable and couldn't be coaxed back into bed. Giving up, Harvey had changed clothes and settled down on the sofa with him.

What followed was definitely one of the hardest nights of Harvey's life. Mike's stomach wasn't agreeing with the medication, so the poor kid fluctuated between being in intense pain and retching. Harvey felt absolutely hopeless. All he could do was try and console the boy, whilst catching any vomit in the kitchen bowl, unfortunately a talent that he had plenty of occasions to hone over the long night.

Now, as dawn began to arrive and shafts of dim light were thrown through the blinds onto the pair in repose, the frequency of Mike's episodic vomiting was appearing to tail off, to Harvey's relief.

'Harvey?'

The man started at the small voice, his hand instinctively grasping the bowl at his side.

'You need to throw up, kid?' he asked.

'No, I don't think so,' Mike whispered, his throat sore from retching. 'May I have some water?'

'Here, kid,' Harvey said, passing him a bottle. 'Take it easy.'

He watched tentatively as the boy sipped the water. His hand still gripped the bowl, waiting for the inevitable moment it would be needed. His relief when it didn't come was enormous.

The boy rolled over and appeared to go back to sleep. A few minutes later, there was another small 'Harvey?'.

'Yeah, Mike?'

'Thanks,' he said quietly.

'It's okay, kid.'

Mike smiled and closed his eyes. As minutes passed and the morning's gentle light brought Mike's features into relief, Harvey could see that the pained expression that had haunted them all night was gone. This time, when his own eyelids drooped, he did not fight it, and he fell into a deep, restful sleep, his hand still resting lightly on the boy's back.


End file.
